


Breakable Heaven

by pinkhairedhoe



Series: dramione x taylor swift [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amortentia, Anxiety, Confrontation, Dueling, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fifth Year, Fluff, Mild Angst, Nausea, Pranks, Secret Relationship, dad!hagrid, oblivious harry is oblivious, ron has some temper problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 32,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26273836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkhairedhoe/pseuds/pinkhairedhoe
Summary: Hermione didn't think that a single Potions lesson could mess up her life so significantly.Until Draco Malfoy doses her with the most infamous love potion in the wizarding world, and the feelings don't quite go away even after it wears off.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley (minor)
Series: dramione x taylor swift [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953100
Comments: 59
Kudos: 168





	1. Fever Dream High

**Author's Note:**

> title and chapter titles taken from cruel summer by taylor swift
> 
> p.s.: in light of recent events involving r*wling, trans people of all identities are valid and inherently deserve love and respect 
> 
> twitter: @pinkhairedh0e
> 
> (a little present for isabelle)

Hermione Granger walked into her Gryffindor/Slytherin double Potions class. Despite her general love of academic subjects, it was almost as far down on the list as Divination. Professor Snape didn't take too kindly to her enthusiastic personality to say the least. The problem wasn't really the subject, it was him.

Snape rapped his desk a few times with his wand, and the majority of the students went dead silent.

“Today, in celebration of Valentine’s Day tomorrow, we shall be learning how to brew Amortentia,” the dark haired professor said dully. Whispers spread across the classroom.

“Longbottom,” Snape said, turning to Neville who was sitting near the back out of fear. “Could you explain to me what Amortentia is?”

Neville’s already pale face went white. “It’s a l-l-love potion, P-Professor.”

“You’re not incorrect. Amortentia produces a deep infatuation that is only temporary. It is also very well known for its unique property. What would that property be, Miss Granger, since you’re so clearly straining to keep it in?”

Hermione bristled but answered the question. “Amortentia smells like what we are attracted to, so it smells different to everyone.”

“Indeed. Now, please find a partner from _another house_ _._ Slytherin/Gryffindor pairs only.”

Groans began in waves. Snape ignored them and shouted, “Silence! Get in your pairs and open your books to page 254 for the instructions! Ingredients are in the student supply cabinet.”

Hermione scrambled to find any Slytherin she found palatable. She turned around amidst the movement of students to find herself face to face with Draco Malfoy. 

_Not Draco. Please, anyone but Draco—_

“Granger, start working. You can be partners with Malfoy,” Snape said with a warning edge to his voice. She wasn't trying to lose any more house points by Snape’s hand, so she sighed and resolved herself to sit with Draco. 

The blond boy rolled his eyes. “Snape’s punishing me as much as he’s punishing you, and I’m normally the favorite." 

Hermione squeezed her eyes tight and took a long deep breath. “Just open the textbook. I'm getting the ingredients.”

-

The pair managed to brew the potion successfully without killing each other or causing a major accident. Honestly, Hermione considered that rather favorable. Any long term interaction with Draco that didn't end in violence was rare.

The potion itself was beautiful. It sparkled like tiny diamonds, with a shift of gold in the dim lighting, and it smelled . . . well, it smelled like something. Hermione was having a hard time placing it. 

She was taking notes on the brewing process to remember for later when she could have sworn to have seen a small glass bottle on the table. When she looked back at the desk in front of Malfoy it only had his books. She thought nothing of it and continued to write. It wasn't worth the lost house points to pick a fight.

-

Valentine’s Day at Hogwarts wasn't as much of an occasion as Christmas, but it was lovely all the same. The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall had fluffy white clouds and pink hearts dancing across it, with angelic looking Cupids flying about. There was a happy atmosphere as everyone ate breakfast, and all the couples presented each other with gifts or held hands as they left. 

Hermione was taking a bite of a heart shaped cookie when Malfoy and his goons, Crabbe and Goyle, seemed to materialize out of nowhere. She nearly choked.

“What’s the matter Granger?” Malfoy asked mockingly as she coughed.

Harry looked up from his porridge confused. Ron looked like he wanted to sock Malfoy in the nose.

She swallowed and glared at the boy. “Nothing, Draco. Could you bugger off now so I don't vomit my breakfast?

Malfoy smirked a half smile and adjusted his tie. “It’d be my pleasure.” He walked away confidently, Crabbe and Goyle giggling behind.

“That was odd,” Harry commented, taking a pastry.

“More than odd,” Ron muttered. “I’ve never seen Crabbe or Goyle _giggle_ before.”

“Very strange,” Hermione said. She took a long drink of her pumpkin juice. 

Her eyes glazed over and a warm feeling settled into her stomach. Ron and Harry were about to leave the hall, finishing a few last bites, but they stared at Hermione in shock. They were crouched awkwardly between sitting and standing.

“‘Mione? Something wrong?” Ron asked.

“You alright there?” Harry asked.

Hermione felt a pleased smile spread over her face. “I’m fantastic, thank you for asking.”

The boys’ expressions deepened into horror.

“She’s off her rocker,” Ron said. “We should take her to Madam Pomfrey’s, I swear, she’s never been like this before.”

Harry nodded enthusiastically but the brunette girl shook her head in refusal. “I’m perfectly fine! Truly, I’ve never felt better. I’m floating!”

Ron shrugged. “I still think you’re being strange, but if you insist, I suppose.”

“I’m keeping an eye on you when we have classes, if this goes on, we’re going to the hospital wing,” Harry promised.

The two left the Great Hall with puzzled expressions.

-

All through Arithmancy, Hermione felt rather incredible. She felt a need for something, however, but she couldn't figure it out. She spent half the lesson in a daze. 

Her next class was Charms with the Slytherins. As she stepped into the room, she physically felt her heart beat a little quicker. Hastily sitting down, she looked up, and from across the room saw Draco, already seated and laughing. 

A beam of light from the large windows of the classroom was falling onto his face and pale blond hair, and Hermione sat transfixed. A flush came to her cheeks and her stomach tingled.

_Oh, Draco. How have I never noticed him before?_

He was obviously what she was missing in Arithmancy. He had matured beautifully—his hair neatly combed, his cheekbones prominent, his arms well-muscled from Quidditch practice. Hermione thought he looked like an angel, not the baby-like cherubs from the Great Hall, but more so what she had always pictured.

How could she be expected to focus with such an impossibly heavenly vision in the same classroom?

Ron and Harry were already eyeing her suspiciously, but she couldn't care less. She just wanted to look at Draco, and maybe for Draco to look at her. She almost thought she’d faint if he did.

Flitwick's voice became background noise as Hermione continued to catch small glimpses of Draco. Pansy Parkinson kept touching his arm as they chatted quietly, and boiling rage filled her veins. 

_How dare that pig-faced snake touch_ my _Draco?_

She resolved to confront her after class. She didn't want any competition for Malfoy’s attention. Hermione fully believed she was the only girl for Draco, and she intended to keep it that way.

By the end of the lesson, the curly haired girl was barely focused enough to hear Professor Flitwick dismiss them. She rushed to leave the classroom and leaned against the wall to lie in wait. 

Draco breezed past her, and she sighed aloud in yearning. Pansy followed behind, and she tugged on her sleeve to pull her from the stream of students.

The black haired girl looked very confused.

“Just so you know, Pansy, Draco is mine,” Hermione said firmly. “No more of that arm touching business if you don't want to get hexed.” She waved her wand in a threatening manner. “Now run along!”

Pansy looked even more perplexed, but just mumbled something like, “Whatever you say, Granger,” before scurrying away.

Hermione was satisfied and happily walked to Care of Magical Creatures. 

-

They had Magical Creatures with the Hufflepuffs this week, leaving Hermione bored. Hagrid kept looking at her funny, but didn't say anything. He continued his lecture on how to apply an anti-flea potion.

At lunch, Harry and Ron barely spoke to her, instead exchanging worried looks. After the meal they pulled her aside and Harry quickly cast a muffling charm over the group.

“Hermione, you’ve got to tell us what’s wrong,” Harry said.

“Nothing is wrong, Harry. I told you this morning that I feel lovely. The only thing that even temporarily put a damper on my mood was that harlot Pansy in charms,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

“What did Pansy do?” Ron asked. “I mean, she’s annoying, and stuck up, and I hate her, but what did she do?”

“She kept _flirting_ with Draco!” Hermione said, her voice raising a little. “I mean, how dare she!”

The boys’ jaws hung open. Normally Hermione’s observant gaze would be able to see the gears turning in their heads, but her sharp brain was a bit fuzzy.

“Draco did this,” Harry said under his breath.

“Didn't we make Amortentia yesterday? That’s what it must have been, that slimy little weasel.” Ron pushed up the sleeves on his robes. “I swear, I’ll get that blond rat—” 

Hermione gasped in horror. “No, you can't hurt him!”

Harry whacked his friend on the back of the head. “Sorry about that, but now's not the time to go beat up Draco. Not while Hermione’s in the loony bin.”

“I take offense to that,” Hermione interjected. “I’m not loony!”

Ron grumbled a bit. “Well what are we supposed to do? Just wait? Watch her food at meals like a hawk?”

Harry took a long hard look at Hermione. “I suppose so. And keep her away from Draco as much as we can, if I see her fawn over him I might vomit.”

Hermione stomped her foot like a toddler having a tantrum. “You can’t tell me what to do! I’ll see Draco if I please!” She huffed away, ignoring her friends’ shouts.

She couldn't understand why Harry and Ron were being so incredibly fussy. She was happy, for Merlin’s sake! Since when did they care about her love life?

She recalled that she would have classes with Draco the next day and felt as if Chocolate Frogs were jumping around in her chest. _Harry and Ron just don't get it._

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Bad, Bad Boy

Hermione purposely sat away from Harry and Ron with Ginny so they couldn't badger her at breakfast. 

In between classes Hermione tried to catch small glimpses of Draco. She sat across from him in the courtyard and “studied” while he wrote an essay, she stayed after History of Magic to ask Professor Binns a question she already knew the answer to, and spent far too long pretending to tie her shoe while he chatted with Blaise in the hall. He was just so endlessly fascinating.

Of course she’d realized that Draco Malfoy was handsome, most girls in her year (and a few in the years above and below) had figured that out long ago. Several distressed Slytherin girls had crying fits when he went with Pansy to the Yule Ball. Hermione had just always overlooked that fact. If anyone had asked her opinion on Malfoy before now, she probably would have said she hated him.

_I was so silly._

Hermione was leaning her cheek on her hand, dreamily watching Draco thumb through books in the library before dinner. A glinting silver watch was visible under the sleeves of his robes. She had never noticed that before. 

However, much to her chagrin, Draco hadn't seemed to notice _her_. She’d basically been following him around for hours and he hadn't even looked at her since the morning of Valentine's Day. 

Suddenly, as if Hermione wasn't actually thinking but instead talking out loud, Draco turned around and fixed his eyes in her direction. She smiled shyly and acted as if she was reading the book propped in front of her the whole time. She could have sworn she saw a smile flash across his face too. As quickly as he'd turned around his back was to her again.

Her face felt hot. She began to actually read about various healing herbs for Herbology homework and was almost fully immersed when she saw a ringed hand on the dark table. The book fell from its propped position and made a loud thud in the quiet library. No one was around to chastise Hermione though. 

“Hello, Granger,” Draco said casually, half sat on the table. “What were you reading about?” He pulled the book toward him and glanced at the cover, reading it aloud. “ _Magical Healing_?”

She found herself unable to speak and just nodded.

Malfoy ran his tongue over his lower lip. “Makes sense. You hang out with thick skulled gits who always seem to get hurt.”

“I mean, you’re, you’re not wrong,” Hermione said softly.

“They’re bloody idiots,” Draco continued. “Even though you’re a Muggleborn, you've always at least been smarter than them. _Much_ smarter. Cunning, almost.”

Hermione’s love-fogged brain ignored the insult and magnified the compliment. “Oh, thank you.”

“I’m just saying, I always thought if you were . . . “ he looked her up and down in a way that made her whole body shiver, “pureblood, you’d be a fantastic Slytherin.”

He’d moved a little closer, and his last few words were almost a bare whisper. She was surrounded by a masculine cologne with a hint of wood smoke. It was hauntingly familiar. Almost instinctively, she leaned back into him.

Malfoy promptly straightened himself and put his hands in his pockets. “What a shame,” he tutted. “The blood status _and_ being a Gryffindor.” His steel grey eyes locked with hers. “Truly a shame.”

Hermione was fixed on him as he strode away, weaving through the shelves.

-

Her appetite was gone. She couldn't focus on anything but Draco’s eyes and cologne enveloping her like a blanket in the library. She’d been in her robes and completely covered, but his piercing gaze made her feel so vulnerable.

She would have felt ridiculous staring at him from all the way across the Great Hall, but she was so unbearably _into_ Draco Malfoy that she no longer cared.

Ginny made a face and waved her hand in front of Hermione. “Hey, Hermione, you've been staring off into space for nearly ten minutes.”

She broke free of her trance for a moment and shook her head vigorously. “Sorry, did you need to tell me something?”

Ginny frowned. “No, you've just been fascinated with the Slytherin table for all of dinner. What’s gotten into you?”

Hermione sighed absentmindedly, watching Malfoy use a levitation charm to float a roll to one of his friends. “Draco,” she answered.

Ginny paused mid-sip. A drop of water fell from her lips down her chin. “Who?” she asked, incredulously. “I’m sorry, I thought you said Draco and I assumed I heard wrong.” It was clear from her tone that the young Weasley girl was expecting a different answer. Hermione cocked her head in surprise.

“I said Draco. You heard me correctly.”

Ginny set her goblet down. “Since when? Do Harry and Ron know? And _why_?” Her voice was starting to get louder and Hermione shushed her.

She lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned as far as she could across the table. “Listen, Ron and Harry know but they're not exactly pleased. It’s only been a few days.”

“You still haven't explained why. Didn't he call you the, the, you know, the–”

“Mudblood?”

Ginny went very quiet. “Yes.”

“Yes, he used to. Rather often. But I can't explain it Ginny, I see him so differently now. I think we nearly kissed in the library,” she said giddily. 

The redhead stole a glance to the Slytherin table. “Well, he is pretty cute.”

“I know, isn’t he handsome?” Hermione gushed. “I always knew that, of course, but it just now became obvious. Lavender told me I was apparently muttering his name in my sleep last night,” she said, blushing scarlet.

“I understand why they’re not happy about it, but you can always talk to me,” Ginny offered tentatively.

Hermione gave the girl a warm smile. “Of course.”

-

The next morning, she made a point to wake up a little earlier than normal to fix her hair. She smoothed it down with some Sleekeazy’s and did a neat bun with some loose strands framing her face. She’d seen Muggle girls doing it.

She did arrive a little late to breakfast, meaning there was only one seat available.

“What did you do to your hair?” Harry asked. “I’ve never really seen it up.”

Hermione played with a strand. “Just something I’ve seen other girls do. Besides, it keeps it out of my face during tests.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “Hold on, we have a _test_? What subject? When?”

Hermione groaned. “It’s in Charms, Ronald. I swear, I don't hang out with you two for a few days and everything falls apart.”

Harry regarded her with suspicion. “I swear, if you’re doing this to impress Malfoy—”

She cut him off with a harsh look. “Why I do my hair is none of your business, even if I was trying to impress him.”

_Am I that obvious?_

The dark haired boy shrugged. “Whatever you say, ‘Mione.”

“I’m not saying that we're mad at you for liking him, if it's genuine,” Ron clarified between bites of a scone. “Don’t get me wrong, _I_ absolutely am because I think he’s a right git. We're just convinced he drugged you. You’d sooner cut off your left foot than be attracted to Malfoy.”

Hermione opened her mouth to disagree, but a weird feeling came over her. Her thinking cleared and the butterflies in her stomach went away. Her mouth was dry and she had a headache. “Wait. Ron, repeat that please.”

He furrowed his brow. “We think Draco drugged you,” he said again, wiping crumbs from his mouth. “Could you not hear me or—”

Hermione stood up, furious, and drew her wand from her pocket. Draco was beginning to leave the Great Hall and she ran to catch up.

He rounded a corner and she managed to grasp the hood of his robes. Malfoy tried to pull away, but Hermione's grip was firm, and she deftly pinned him against the cold stone wall of the castle with one hand, the other one holding her wand under his chin.

“You have some explaining to do, Malfoy.”


	3. In the Quiet of The Night

“What are you talking about? You’re deluded!” Draco spat.

“You know precisely what I’m talking about, you conniving rodent.” She dug her wand into his neck a little further for emphasis. “You slipped Amortentia into my drink, didn't you?”

Malfoy chuckled darkly. “You’re imagining things.”

“I’d never act the way I was acting otherwise,” she said. “You said it yourself that I’m rather clever. You think I didn't see that vial during Potions?”

The blond boy just smirked and narrowed his eyes. “Oh, you can just say you’re in love with me and drop the charade. Not my fault that I’m so charming, Granger.”

Hermione was filled with rage now. “Oh you little— _Petrificus Tot_ —”

He visibly panicked at the incantation. “Wait, no, HERMIONE, wait,” he begged. 

She dropped her wand from his chin and the glow faded from the tip. “You have a minute.”

“I put the Amortentia in,” he confessed. “I thought it'd be funny, I suppose, to watch little miss perfect Hermione Granger turn into a lovesick puppy. But I—”

The wand returned to its place under Draco’s jaw. “You absolute fool, you do realize it can last up to a year when brewed properly? I could have been stuck like that for months!”

“You’re not the only one who reads, you don't have a monopoly on books,” he muttered. “It rarely lasts a year, you have to do it perfectly for that. I only gave you a half dose anyway. Surprised it lasted three days though,” he added, sounding impressed. “We’re not a bad team.”

“Very funny, Malfoy.” She stepped away with her mouth firmly set in a straight line. Her brown eyes were firey with anger.

“If I catch you meddling with me like that again, I won't stop halfway through the spell,” Hermione said. She shoved her wand back into her pocket. 

Her body was hot with a mix of embarrassment, fury, and frustration. She couldn't believe Draco Malfoy of all people had made her look like a simpering fool.

She sighed heavily and decided to stop by Gryffindor tower to cool off and gather her supplies for the day.

“Butterbeer,” she said flatly. The portrait swung open.

Harry and Ron were cramming for their Charms test in the corner. Hermione shrugged off her robe and threw it onto the couch. She sat and rubbed her temples.

“Oi, there you are,” Ron said. “What happened to you?”

She let out a long groan. “You were right. He drugged me and didn't even explain why.”

Harry and Ron shared a look. “That’s bloody strange, Hermione,” Harry said.

“Yeah, I’d have to agree,” Ron added. “I’m glad you’re back to normal and all, but I still think we should rough him up.”

“I already threatened him with a Full-Body Bind, he wimped out partway through the incantation and that’s when he confessed,” she explained, exasperated.

Hermione slumped onto the couch deep in thought. “A prank doesn't explain why he acted like that in the library,” she said under her breath.

Harry peered at her quizzically. “Acted like what?”

In spite of herself, and without the influence of any potion, the brunette girl blushed deeply at the memory.

“Oh, ‘Mione, you've got to tell us now!” Ron teased.

“I’ll not go into sordid detail, but needless to say he was being sort of flirty,” she admitted.

“I’ve never seen _Malfoy_ flirt with anybody,” Harry said. 

“I know. Even though he has a horde of devoted admirers, he never talks to any of them."

A mischievous smile came to Ron’s face. “I think I have an explanation for why.”

Hermione’s mouth opened wide. “No. Ron, no.”

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and she only continued to scold him. “Ronald, how dare you suggest such a thing! You're disgusting.”

Harry looked between the two of them in confusion. “What _are_ you suggesting exactly, Ron?”

The ginger stifled a laugh. “Maybe our ferret friend has a thing for Hermione.”

“Ugh, don’t say it aloud!” she said over her shoulder, marching off to the girls' dormitories to get her books.

-

Hermione attempted to ignore Ron’s comment throughout her school day. She’d been out of it for three days, and she was afraid her grades would suffer if she didn't focus. Spending class periods (and most of her free time) staring at Draco was not, in fact, an effective way to study.

 _He was joking. It's Ron, he jokes all the time,_ she reassured herself.

At the same time, some sneaky voice in her head told her that he may be correct. When she was little, her parents teased that a boy who tossed erasers at her head just fancied her. They said boys were mean sometimes when they liked a girl. She didn't know if that still applied when the boy was sixteen. 

Whenever she had classes with the Slytherins she averted her eyes from Draco and made a point to ignore him. Even though she wasn't looking, she could almost sense Malfoy sneaking glances at her all day.

They both finished their Charms test a little early and bumped hands turning it in to Professor Flitwick. She looked up without thinking and Malfoy seemed taken aback. 

He swallowed and clenched his jaw. “Sorry, go ahead,” he muttered. The blond Slytherin was normally notoriously smooth, charismatic, even. Certainly not the type to meekly apologize for something so small. Hell, he didn't really apologize for anything.

She set her parchment down and returned quickly to her desk. _Since when is Draco awkward?_

Ron lightly tapped her on the shoulder from his seat next to Dean. Hermione didn't turn around, but she could hear him making kissy noises. Still facing the front of the room, she said quietly, “Stop that or you'll wake up with a spider under your pillow."

Ron stopped immediately and mumbled out a “Yes.”

“Good,” she said. She glanced off to the side. Draco was still looking at her.

-

Hermione hated to break any type of school rule. It didn't really stop her, but she felt bad about it the whole time. She had first retreated to her dorm to try to catch up on her work, but Lavender and Padma were gossiping far too loudly. Then, she tried the common room, which turned out to be filled with smoke from a Fred and George related accident.

“Sorry, Hermione,” Fred had said when she came down the stairs. “We tried out a top secret prank idea but it nearly burned our eyebrows off.”

“Would have been a real shame, we do half our talking with our eyebrows,” George added with a wink. “We're going to leave the windows open overnight so McGonagall doesn't notice and stays off our backs.”

That was how she ended up in the courtyard under the pale moon doing Ancient Runes homework. She was busy translating a story into English from the original Runic when she heard footsteps approaching.

Panicking, she assumed it was a teacher on patrol and reached for her wand.

“Nox,” she whispered.

A figure appeared from behind the fountain. They were also holding a wand that shined a white glow around them. They took a few more steps.

Draco paused and murmured, “Nox.”

“Malfoy,” she said stiffly.

“Granger,” he replied. “What are you doing out here? I know you spend all your time studying, but I didn't expect you'd break curfew for it.” The remark was clearly meant to be snide, but his voice didn't have the same edge. He was wearing a plain green jumper and some sort of baggy pants, with a green-lined black cloak to shield from the chill of February. He looked sort of ridiculous.

“I wasn't trying to break curfew,” she explained, still not looking directly at him. “I’d rather be in my dormitory or the common room, but that didn't work out. Besides, I could ask you the same.”

Malfoy fiddled with the closure on his cloak and took off the hood. “Dunno. Couldn't sleep. No one else was up, so I decided to take a walk.”

“Why, do you need your warm milk before bed and there wasn't a house elf around to help?” Hermione replied snarkily. She regretted it as soon as it left her lips but Draco didn't flinch.

“No, that’s not why,” he said simply. 

“I’m not a mind reader, Malfoy. Haven't learned that spell yet.”

He sighed and sat down on the cobblestones next to her. He maintained a distance though, more than a full arm's length. Hermione allowed herself to actually look at him. Draco looked more like a scared child than the intimidating man he was becoming in the dim light. His features were softer and not so harsh and angular. In the sweater and pajama pants, he could be any Muggle boy.

“You may not believe me or accept it, Granger, but I’m sorry,” he began. “I can’t fix it, but I shouldn't have slipped that potion into your glass.”

She wanted to speak but her throat couldn't make any sound. Draco continued after a beat.

“I don't get a lot of positive attention. Either I’m the scary bully or Lucius’s spoilt son, and regardless of how I’m seen people are frightened of me. I suppose it’s partially my fault.” He wet his lips quickly. “I saw the Amortentia as an opportunity to see what it was like to be loved. I know it’s not real, but just a taste of it,” he explained.

Malfoy adjusted his sleeves so they covered his wrists. “Crabbe and Goyle just thought it’d be funny, so they went along. I figured out though some research that with two inexperienced makers, it’d only last a few days at most, like I told you.”

He lifted his head. “It was never supposed to be malicious, Granger.”

Hermione noticed that she hadn't breathed the whole time Draco was talking. She took a long purposeful breath and let it out shakily. “What did Amortentia smell of to you?” she asked carefully.

Malfoy closed his eyes. “Leather, coconut, and clean laundry.”

Ron's voice played in her mind. _Merlin_. 

“The things I use on my hair are all coconut.”

Draco hesitated. “What did you smell?”

She turned her attention to the moss on the stones in front of her. “I didn't recognize it.” She wasn't lying, she couldn't figure out what it was at first.

“Describe it then.”

Hermione recalled the Potions lesson and frowned. “Well, I smelled new parchment, and cut grass, and the only other thing I could smell was sort of masculine and woody. Maybe tobacco smoke, too. I realized it was just your cologne overpowering it after that day in the library.”

His face went slack. “I didn't wear cologne that day."

“You're joking,” she chuckled.

“Why would I joke about that?” he said, standing. 

“Why would you give me Amortentia?” she asked, raising her voice.

“I told you why.”

“Not a good enough reason, Malfoy. Why could you smell my coconut shampoo?”

His gaze dropped. “Why do you think?”

The grip on her wand tightened. “Bloody hell, Malfoy,” she whispered harshly. “How incredibly selfish of you.”

A fire lit in her eyes and fear flashed across Draco’s face. “Granger, wait, you have to understand—”

“You only gave that to me because you had some silly crush? You called me a _MUDBLOOD_ for YEARS!” She was almost shouting and her wand moved to return to its place under his chin. “You _drugged_ me! All because you wanted attention?”

A distant sound echoed through the castle and the two froze and hid behind the stone pillars, expecting a professor to appear at any moment. When no one came, they re-emerged cautiously.

Draco raised his wand. “Look,” he whispered, “you can be angry at me all you want, but a brawl in the middle of the night will not end well for either of us.”

Hermione forced herself to calm down a little and let her wand fall back to her side. 

“I didn't realize what the coconut was. I swear. I swear on my father, I swear on my mother, I swear on every member of my family going back four hundred years.”

The Gryffindor girl laughed. “Sure, Malfoy. So like a pureblood to swear on your bloodline, too. You just wanted a laugh at my expense. Nothing new.”

Draco looked drained. “I’m going to bed,” he said quietly. “If you want to give me an actual chance to explain myself, I’ll be at the Quidditch field after dinner tomorrow.”

“You’re mad,” Hermione murmured. 

“Maybe I am. Goodnight, Granger.” With that, he put up his hood again and lit his wand. The pale glow eventually disappeared down the long corridor.


	4. Seal My Fate

The Gryffindor common room was no longer filled with smoke. Fred and George’s plan to air it out overnight had apparently worked, and the clusters of people chatting and doing homework seemed none the wiser.

Hermione was sitting on a plush beanbag chair reviewing a list of topics for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Her brain was buzzing and alive, not because she was studying, but because she couldn't get her conversation with Draco the night before out of her head. She was curious and angry and resentful all at once, and most of all incredibly confused.

_Is he just setting me up for another joke? Did he mean everything he said? Did he even smell those things in the Amortentia?_

“Hey, Hermione,” Ron said, “Could you help me with this after dinner?” He gestured loosely to the heaps of parchment and books around him.

Hermione flinched. “Um, I’m busy after dinner, actually,” she said.

“What? More homework?”

“No, Ron. It’s none of your business,” she insisted.

He started grinning widely and leaned back in his chair. “I see how it is, you have a date with your new _booooyfriend."_

Hermione swatted him with her roll of parchment. “You shut up.”

Harry looked up from his book. “Huh? Boyfriend?”

“She’s hanging out with the Slytherin Prince himself,” Ron said confidently. “I knew I was right.”

“Merlin’s beard! You are truly insufferable,” Hermione huffed. 

Harry still appeared very confused. He set aside his book and leaned forward. “Wait, are you actually going to see Malfoy tonight?” 

Hermione glanced about the room. No one seemed to have noticed their conversation even with Ron’s obnoxious declaration. She sighed and leaned in toward the boys.

“We actually talked last night,” she admitted. “I couldn't find a quiet place to study and I ran into him.”

“How romantic,” Ron cooed. She quickly shushed him and continued. 

“He tried to explain himself and I almost put him in a Body Bind again, but he said he wanted a chance to talk properly. So that’s what I'm doing; I’m taking him up on it.”

“I don't trust Malfoy far as I can throw him. I know you can handle yourself but take your wand,” Harry advised. 

“Of course,” she said. “Don't worry about me.”

They all turned back to their work in silence. 

Hermione’s thoughts were still roaring loud.

-

The air was cool and chilly with a strong breeze. The Quidditch pitch hadn't been used since before the winter holidays, but an enchantment kept the grass clipped short. Oliver Wood had cornered Hermione in the common room one day when she was a third year and talked her ear off about it, even though she tried to explain that she already knew that from _Hogwarts, A History_. She wrapped her Gryffindor scarf tighter around her neck and cast a quick heat charm to warm her shivering body.

The crunch of feet on grass caught her attention. Draco was walking toward her in the evening fog. He had on a Slytherin scarf over his robes and fine leather gloves.

“I didn't know if you’d be here,” he said, standing in front of her.

“I didn't know if you’d come.”

“I'll try to make it quick, if that’s alright,” he said, shuffling his feet. 

“To be honest, I understood most of what you said last night. I was just angry and didn't want to believe you,” she said. “I do want to know about the library.”

He leaned against the bleacher towers. His pale skin was a little pink from the cold. “You don't have to believe me, but I was being genuine that day, if a little dramatic about it. What I said was true—I’ve always thought you were smart and I always thought you could have been a Slytherin. You never have to pretend to be something you’re not to just have friends either. I think Weasley and Potter are utter fools, but they’re still your friends.”

Hermione laughed. “Well, they can be a bit dense.”

Malfoy sighed deeply and his breath looked like a wisp of smoke. “I want to be loved for myself. Not because I’m doing what my father wanted, or because my family is powerful, or because people fear me.”

She nodded. “I understand that, but did you really not know what the Amortentia smells meant?”

Malfoy smiled a little. “Well, I realized the coconut was your hair in the library. I recognized it immediately and I didn't really know what to do with myself.” He kicked at the grass a little. “The Amortentia would only last so long, and I knew it wasn't real on your side of things.”

She felt very unexpected pity for Draco. She pressed her lips together firmly and studied the ground for a moment. “I know how that feels—wanting to be loved and accepted. I’ve always felt out of place in the wizarding world, which people like you haven't been much help with. That’s why I study so hard. I feel I have to prove myself all the time.”

“My father asks about your grades to compare them to mine. He says I should be outperforming all the Muggle-borns and half-bloods. Apparently, I’m not living up to my superior blood status and the honorable Malfoy name,” he muttered, kicking the grass again.

“You don't have to be your father,” she said. “You could easily be much better than him, actually.”

“Looking like him already draws comparisons, but he always says he was smarter and more accomplished than me when he was my age. It’s exhausting,” he professed.

“I can't imagine how awful that is.”

Draco took a deep breath. “By the way, even though I know it’s unlikely you feel the same—”

Hermione must have had a revealing expression on her face because he immediately backtracked. “I mean that you’re not obligated to return my feelings.”

“Oh,” she said, blinking. The same sort of warmth that was in her chest when she was on the potion began to bloom again. She could barely feel the wind.

“I assumed that part was obvious. That I . . . fancy you.”

“Ron sort of guessed it, actually,” she said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

Malfoy looked nauseated at the idea. “What did you tell the weasel? That I used your first name? About the library?”

She cocked her head, bewildered. “When did you—oh. Oh.” She remembered her first confrontation with him in the corridor outside the Great Hall when he pleaded for her not to cast the spell. “I barely noticed.”

“Well, you were rather furious. I doubt you were paying attention to my word choice.”

“I shouldn't have been so irrational,” she said, somewhat embarrassed. “I was so angry I wasn't thinking correctly, if you hadn't said something I probably would have jinxed you and gotten in trouble for dueling.”

“Wouldn't be the first rule you’ve broken.”

“Certainly not the last.”

A friendly smile played on Draco’s lips. “I’m sorry, again.”

“Thank you.”

“You don't have to trust me, but it would maybe be nice to be civil.”

“Only if you’re polite to Ron and Harry,” she counter offered, extending a hand.

Malfoy made a face. “Could I be cordial to them instead?”

Hermione considered. “Fine.”

“We have a deal, Granger.”

“You can call me Hermione.”

“We have a deal then, _Hermione._ ”

-

Hermione sat on her bed in the dormitory. Her roommates were all fast asleep. 

When she returned earlier, Ron and Harry had pestered her aggressively for details of what happened with Draco after dinner, and since she didn't answer, they came up with some . . . graphic ideas. Thankfully they couldn't follow her up the girls’ staircase.

She shook her head to clear the memories away and refocused on the spare bit of parchment in front of her. “Pro” and “con” were written in her neat script over two columns.

Hermione sighed. “Merlin, this is difficult.”

She was so confused. _On one hand,_ she thought, examining the pros column, _it’s sort of the right thing to tell him how I feel._ She’d written “honest”, “relieving”, “protection (from slytherins)”, and “quidditch game date” under the heading. She hesitated for a moment, then added “happy”. 

_But on the other . . ._

The cons column had “his parents hate me”, his friends hate me”, “scary”, and “malfoy”. Those four bullet points felt insurmountable. Obviously Hermione was brave, she was in Gryffindor for a reason, but confessing her feelings sounded more terrifying than anything she’d had to do in her time at Hogwarts. She’d fight a dozen trolls in the girls’ bathroom if it meant she didn't have to tell Malfoy she fancied him.

_Ugh, it sounds so juvenile._

Hermione had always made it a point of pride that she was able to focus on academics with no outside distraction. Her studies were her top priority and she’d never wavered on that.

It didn't mean that she _wasn't_ jealous of those girls who walked around with their boyfriends, studying and going to Hogsmeade together. It just meant she could suppress the jealousy enough to mostly ignore it. Until now.

Once she saw Malfoy in that sort of way, she couldn't get the idea out of her head. The warmth in her chest fluttered back as a persistent reminder whenever he crossed her mind.

She tried to think of what Ron and Harry would tell her to do, besides give up and not talk to him at all.

_They'd probably say I was being too fussy about this, at least Harry would._

Hermione had almost never done anything without overthinking it first. She made her class schedules by doing pros and cons lists and ranking each elective course by future benefit, desire to learn the subject, and difficulty. She made elaborate study plans and color-coordinated the ties for her parchment so she never mixed up her essays. (For example, DADA, Transfiguration, and Charms were black, green, and light blue respectively in her system.) She never took risks outside of her adventures with Harry and Ron. Her personal life’s structure was the one stable thing she had.

And in this situation it was driving her crazy.

She looked over at Crookshanks, who was asleep peacefully on the chest at the foot of the bed. _I can't ask a cat for advice. Crookshanks hasn't ever had a crush._

Hermione put the list aside on her nightstand. _I have to just make a choice. One way or the other_ , she thought. _I’m the so-called brightest witch of my age, I can't be crippled with indecision over something so trivial._

She suddenly recalled a famous Muggle way of solving a problem. She dug around in her bags for a single Galleon and assigned a face of the coin to either yes or no. Hermione took a deep breath and flipped it into the air and onto the back of her other hand. 


	5. To Cut To The Bone

“Ginny?” 

The red headed girl opened the door to her dormitory and rubbed her eyes. “What is it, Hermione?” she asked sleepily. 

“Sorry, I know it’s rather early,” she winced. “Could I come in?”

“Sure, so long as you’re quiet.”

The two girls sat on the floor by Ginny’s bed, facing a small window. Orange light from the rising sun streamed in.

Hermione had finished explaining everything that had happened with Draco and Ginny looked stunned.

“I didn't know that Malfoy even had emotions,” she said.

“I certainly didn't either,” Hermione admitted.

“I suppose the only question that’s left is if you fancy him back.”

Hermione hung her head and blushed. “To be honest, I think I do. That’s why I can't tell Harry and Ron any of this, they’d be furious! Could you even imagine?”

“Ron would beat him to a bloody pulp,” Ginny said matter-of-factly.

“Exactly. I was stuck last night trying to figure out what to do, and I made a list like normal. It just didn't help,” she said. “So I used a Muggle method of making a decision—I flipped a Galleon.”

“Wizards do that too, you know. What did it land on?” the younger girl asked.

“. . . it landed on the side I called. I got a yes.”

“Then tell him!” 

“It’s not that simple,” Hermione whispered harshly. “His parents would hate me and possibly disown him, his pureblood Slytherin friends would still call me a mudblood behind my back, and Ron and Harry would think I was a traitor. There’s no way to win.”

“You shouldn't have to hide how you feel either,” Ginny said, resting her hand on her friend’s arm. “If it's meant to be, none of that will matter.”

“I know,” Hermione said quietly. 

One of Ginny’s roommates began to stir. “Listen, we can talk about this again later if you want, okay?”

“Okay,” the older girl replied. She quickly left and returned to her own dorm to get ready for the day. 

_It’s not as if Draco is_ expecting _me to tell him something. He doesn't have to know and it’ll all blow over soon._

  
  


-

Hermione was sadly mistaken.

She felt as if she'd truly gone mad. She felt an obsessive need to avoid Draco at every turn, and at the same time, the intense compulsion to confess. They had made accidental eye contact in every class they shared together for a week, but she was always the first one to look away.

 _I can't risk it. Even if that’s what the silly coin landed on, nothing about me and Draco makes sense,_ she told herself.

Ron and Harry were, of course, still extremely suspicious of her prior meeting with Malfoy. They would not let up with their prodding. She loved them both, but they couldn't let things go sometimes.

“God, Hermione, did he swear you to secrecy or something?” Ron asked one evening. 

She stayed tight-lipped. 

“It’s not like we’ll be mad,” Harry said. “We just want to know! We’re your friends, aren't we?”

She diverted her attention from her book. “Yes, obviously, but I don't owe you every detail of my life.”

Ron fumed silently.

 _He’ll get over it,_ Hermione thought.

She threw herself even more passionately into her courses, with the excuse of O.W.L.s coming up in the spring. She could barely sleep either, so she spent her nights with her nose in her books too. All she could see when she tried to rest were Draco’s wounded puppy eyes gazing at her from across the Great Hall or Transfiguration class.

Hermione was walking with her head down toward the Astronomy Tower when her path was blocked by a set of Slytherin robes. Her heart dropped.

“Malfoy,” she said formally, looking up.

Instead of looking smug as usual, he looked relieved. “Are you busy?” he asked expectantly.

She glanced about to see if anyone she knew was around before answering. The corridor was relatively deserted. “Not particularly.”

“Could you spare a moment?”

_Don’t. Don’t do it. You can’t afford to be alone with him—_

“Sure.”

She mentally cursed herself as they took a few steps to the side to avoid any possible traffic.

“What did you want to discuss?” she asked.

“I can't tell if I’m imagining it, but have you been avoiding me?” he asked.

“I—”

“I can leave you alone if that’s what you want. We don't even have to be friends,” he said quickly.

“That’s not the problem,” she said.

Malfoy tilted his head. “Then what is?”

She sighed and shifted her weight a little. “It’s hard to explain,” she started, but his eyes immediately went dull. 

“I see,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets.

“It’s not you, Draco, I promise,” she said hastily. “It’s nothing personal.”

The blond boy ran his tongue over his teeth and let out a breath. “I just didn't know. I was afraid I’d made you angry again.” He chuckled a bit under his breath. “I’ve done that a lot.”

Hermione thought back to their third year when she punched him in the nose. “To be fair, you’ve usually deserved it.”

“I certainly did.” His gaze fell to the books she was carrying. “You probably have to go study, I’ll be off.”

She opened her mouth to say that she really wasn't in a hurry, but he had already started down the hall.

A knot began to form in Hermione’s stomach. _I can’t put this off any longer._ She scurried away and began to think of a plan.

  
  


-

She next saw Malfoy in Potions. He was working with Blaise across the room. 

When she had a moment, she carefully watched Snape to make sure he wasn't looking. He typically kept a hawk-like eye on Gryffindors, but he was busy helping other students. She tore a small piece of parchment off from her written observations and scrawled a quick note. Hermione lifted her wand from the table and murmured, “ _Wingardium Leviosa,"_ under her breath as softly as she could. The paper floated as directed until it reached Malfoy’s desk and landed next to his hand.

Draco looked down at it, confused. He opened it gingerly, watching Snape the whole time to ensure he was still distracted, and turned his head in her direction. He nodded once and put the note into his pocket to avoid further suspicion.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief and checked to see if Ron and Harry had been paying attention. Both seemed occupied with their work. _Thank Merlin. I don't know how I would have explained that._

Snape finished assisting the two Slytherins at the front of the room and looked out over the class with a critical eye, focusing in on Hermione for a moment. She ducked her head and pretended to be enamored with her textbook. When she glanced up, his gaze had moved elsewhere. 

She escaped the professor’s wrath successfully for the rest of the period and left the classroom in a hurry once they were dismissed.

All she had to do now was wait.


	6. Shiny Toy With a Price

As far as Harry Potter and Ron Weasley knew, their best friend Hermione Granger was volunteering her time to tutor first years. 

Though if someone was particularly observant that Saturday evening, just past sunset, they may have been able to see a platinum blond boy and a brown-haired girl standing together on the Quidditch field.

Maybe they wouldn't have thought anything of it.

That’s what Hermione was hoping for, just in case anyone was indeed paying attention.

Draco smirked. “Is meeting here going to become a weekly thing?”

“It was the only private place I could think of that wouldn't get us in trouble.”

“Always with the worrying,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not as bad about it as I used to be,” she protested.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. “You did pass a note in class. How horrible, you're practically an outlaw," he said over-dramatically.

“I’ve done worse.”

Quiet fell between them.

“As for what I wanted to tell you,” Hermione said abruptly, “I fancy you, Malfoy.”

Draco’s face contorted in a combination of relieved happiness and confusion. “Is that such a bad thing?” he asked delicately.

“Not by itself,” she sighed. “I was torn about it for a while—whether or not to tell you.”

He stayed silent and distractedly rotated a silver ring on his finger.

“It’s like some kind of sick joke. Malfoy and Granger, the pureblood with the Muggle-born.” She paused. “I don’t know how it would work. I can't change my blood status—”

“And I can't betray my family without severe consequences,” Draco said. “Not to mention your friends, Potter and the weasel—”

“At least call him Weasley. By your own measure you’re probably as much of a blood traitor as he is by now,” she said pointedly.

“Fine, Potter and _Weasley,_ " he corrected, “I can't imagine that news going over well.”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I’m judged and criticized enough, Draco. I don't want my friends angry with me either.”

“I can understand that.” Malfoy adjusted his posture so he wasn't leaning against the structure of the Quidditch stands. 

“I wasn't going to tell you at first. I thought it'd go away,” she muttered. “It didn't.”

“They’re loyal to you, from what I know. I doubt it will change anything permanently.”

“I’m more concerned with how everyone else will take it. Harry and Ron are only one aspect of the problem.” A tear fell down her cheek and she wiped it away immediately. “I can't think of a reasonable solution.”

“I will say that the Hermione I know isn't afraid of what other people think,” Draco said gently. “I know it probably makes me sound like a spoilt rich boy, but I’m used to getting what I want.” He stared at the grass. “You seem to want it too, and I hate that something so stupid is preventing it.”

“I want it too, Draco, but you’re so used to being an exception to the rule.”

He went silent again.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” she said quickly, brushing off her robes.

“Wait, Hermione—”

“I have to go,” she repeated, firmer this time. 

Draco stopped at the base of the hill. She knew he was standing there as she climbed back up, but she refused to look back.

-

Hermione’s excuse was never questioned. Any evidence to the contrary in the form of grass stains on her socks was quickly vanished away. She’d maintained that her Saturday evening was actually spent tutoring for a few days. Harry didn't seem to care, but she made up a few vague details to satisfy Ron. _Maybe now that I’ve stopped sneaking around to see Draco he’ll be normal again._

“I cannot believe Snape took away 50 points for Neville dropping the jar of mustard root today,” Hermione complained. “Could you pass the green beans?”

Ron handed her the dish. “My brothers said they’ve not met a Gryffindor who _received_ house points from Snape. He only favors Slytherins.”

“It’s incredibly unfair. I still remember when he once took 10 points because he claimed I finished an exam too early.”

“He’s a git, Hermione. Everyone agrees,” Harry added.

The conversation was cut off by an unfamiliar owl appearing over the Gryffindor table and dropping a note into Hermione’s glass, which was thankfully almost empty. The pale grey bird snatched a piece of chicken from a platter and flew away gracefully.

“Whose bloody owl was that?” Ron exclaimed, watching it duck out of the hall.

“I don’t know,” Hermione said. She fished out the scroll and carefully unrolled it. Her immediate instinct was to hide the writing, but she quickly realized it wasn't necessary. _It’s Runic._

Ron squinted at the parchment. “I can't read that, it doesn't even look like English.”

She ignored her friend’s comment and mentally translated the text best she could.

_Hermione,_

_I have an idea. I know you're probably sick of me, but if you’re willing to hear me out, come to the Quidditch pitch tomorrow afternoon during the free period._

_Yours,_

_-D.M._

She tucked the note away. _I suppose he knows Runic, then._ When she looked up, he was staring directly at her from the Slytherin table with a raised eyebrow, as if asking a question. 

“Oi, what was that about?” Ron asked, diverting her attention away. 

“Just a first year thanking me for helping her on Saturday.” Hermione was bold-faced lying.

“Must not know how to use a quill yet,” he chuckled. “Bloody awful penmanship.”

Harry stifled a laugh to avoid choking on his food. "If Ron says it's bad, it must be right terrible."

“I could read it, that’s all that matters," she said.

The two boys began to bicker about handwriting, and she took the opportunity to peek at Draco again. He was leaning against the wall by the entrance, talking to a tall, dirty blond boy—someone she didn't recognize. She nodded in his direction.

_I hope that’s enough._

-

“It’s rather obvious you never took Ancient Runes,” Hermione said.

Draco rolled his eyes. “It was clearly good enough, wasn't it? You're here now.”

“I mean, your grammar was awful and you translated afternoon directly into the symbols for after and 12 respectively instead of the word itself. Honestly, that would be a failing grade.”

“Thank you for the criticism, Professor, I’ll do better next time,” Malfoy deadpanned.

She blushed. “Sorry, I'm just very picky about Ancient Runes. It’s one of my favorite subjects.”

“You’re picky about everything, I did alright for using a runic translation book from the library. It was legible!”

“Legible is a stretch, Draco, but it served its purpose,” she conceded.

“Let's change the subject from my Runic then,” he said. "I thought about what you said, and I agree that there's really no way to have a public relationship.”

“You already told me that—”

“Let me finish. The only problem is the public part.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“We’re good enough at sneaking around, clearly. Potter and Weasel—I mean, Potter and Weasley haven't suspected a thing, haven't they?”

“They’ve guessed but they’ve not been right.”

“Perfect then. We’re golden.”

She weighed the concept. “It’s not ideal, to say the least.”

“Nothing is ideal when it comes to us,” Draco laughed.

The use of the word “us” made her chest feel warm. “I don't want it to be secret forever, that’s my one concern.”

“Obviously not,” he said, shaking his head. “Only for as long as we need."

Hermione chewed on her lip as she thought. _That could be a very long time._

“Oh, come on, Granger,” he teased. “You’re a _Gryffindor_ , where's the sense of adventure, the lack of impulse control, the risk taking?”

“But there’s only so many hidden places in the castle or the grounds! Besides that, Filch is everywhere and he'd rat on us to Dumbledore in the blink of an eye, and if your father hears a word of you sneaking around with _me—”_

She found her rambling cut off by Draco’s lips against hers. In the chilly, late winter air, his warmth was welcome. She was shocked for a moment but began to kiss back. 

He pulled away and tucked a messy piece of hair back behind her ear. “Hermione, this doesn't break any rules. It may feel that way, but us being together won't get us in any serious trouble.”

Hermione looked at him incredulously. 

“My father is the exception, yes. But you're sorely mistaken if you think I’m not excellent at lying to him by now.” Malfoy made eye contact with her and cupped her cheek. “I’d rather him think I’m a filthy blood traitor than keep living under his thumb.”

She wrapped her hand around his wrist and kissed him gently. “Alright. We can do this,” she said confidently, more for her own assurance than his. “But no more Quidditch field, it’s a little too visible.” She looked toward the castle in the misty distance, a few lit windows shining through on Ravenclaw Tower. 

“I’ll figure it out, just stop worrying. Makes me anxious just to see it,” he said, shuddering. “Seems bloody tiring.”

“I’ll do my best. No promises though.”


	7. Roll The Dice

Early mornings on weekends at Hogwarts were exceptionally peaceful. The last shift of the night watch had ended a few hours prior, and the halls were empty, save for the occasional ghost. The paintings were chattering and gossiping about the students—which couple was seen snogging by an unused classroom or who was in detention over the past week. After a streak of nasty weather, Hogsmeade trips had resumed for third years and up. 

Astra, Draco’s owl, landed on Hermione’s dormitory windowsill with a scroll tied to her ankle. She took the parchment and stroked her feathers briefly before the bird left to return to the Owlery. 

She drew her wand and muttered, “ _Aparecium_.” A Concealing charm was rather rudimentary, but Hermione had insisted that Draco not write in Runic anymore. She admitted that it was a clever idea, but she couldn't stand his terrible syntax. Until she could teach him more of the writing system, the concealment spell would have to do. They kept details vague anyway and only signed things with initials. 

Early March wasn't exactly warm, but it was less unpleasant than February. Most of the students that gathered to visit Hogsmeade were in sweaters rather than heavy coats.

Ron and Harry were jovial as the group walked down the grassy path to the village.

“I’m glad the rain let up, I’ve been out of candy for weeks,” Ron moaned. 

“I need to pick up parchment,” Hermione said, counting coins in her purse.

“I missed butterbeer,” Harry said. “We all need this. You especially Hermione, you’ve been far too busy."

She flinched involuntarily. “I’m always busy, Harry.”

“If you have a second after you get your parchment, come to The Three Broomsticks. My treat.”

She smiled warmly. “Of course.”

The village looked just as homey as it always had. Instead of snow on the rooftops, wildflowers were blooming as a result of recent rain. The shop windows were brightly lit. 

Fred and George sauntered past. “We’ve been waiting for this for a while,” George said, grinning at his twin brother.

“Zonko’s isn't ready,” Fred replied with an equally massive smile.

The two ran down the slope toward Hogsmeade. 

“Suppose we’ll be hearing more breakfast announcements about mysterious pranks soon?” Harry asked.

“It's been rather quiet since they ran out of fireworks,” Hermione said, laughing. “I’ll see you in a moment, I’ll be at Scrivenshaft’s.”

The trio parted. Hermione ducked ino the stationary shop and quickly bought a few rolls of parchment. When she stepped out, Ron and Harry were nowhere to be seen.

Draco was standing off to the side and smiled warmly when he saw her. “Hello darling,” he said, giving her a hug and a kiss.

“Hello,” she replied. “Excited for our picnic later?"

“I’m not as excited to accidentally eat an earwax Every-Flavor Bean again,” he grumbled.

“I can tell the difference between those and the peach ones now, you'll be fine,” she said. “Harry wanted me to get a butterbeer with him. Could you head into Honey—”

He lifted a bag from the sweetshop that was resting on the ground by their feet. “Already did it.”

“Perfect, I’ll see you later then, 4:30 sharp and we’re meeting at Hagrid’s.”

“Yes, I remember. I’ve got to get back to Crabbe and Goyle before they get lost and possibly hurt themselves, so you go have your drink with Potter.” He gave her another quick kiss and they went off in separate directions.

The Three Broomsticks was lively with students. Harry was sitting by himself in a far corner. When he spotted Hermione entering, he waved her over and called to Madam Rosmerta. “I’ll take that second butterbeer!”

“Where’s Ron?” she asked.

“Still probably in Honeydukes,” he replied, taking a long sip from his mug, leaving it half full.

“He could spend all day there if he could.”

A full, frothy pint of butterbeer slid onto the table. “There you go, dearie,” Madam Rosmerta said sweetly before moving along to another customer.

Hermione relaxed into her chair and took a drink. 

“Did you hear about that Color Change charm accident last week?” Harry asked, wiping foam from his lips.

“No, what happened?”

“Someone got hit with it by accident, I think they were practicing on frogs and one jumped out of the way. She had to go to the hospital wing, not because she was actually hurt, just because her whole body was flashing different colors,” he laughed. 

“Poor girl! How long did it take to go away?”

“After an overnight stay she was fine. The Muggle-borns were all calling her Violet Beauregard, some character from a Muggle book?”

Hermione began to try to explain what _Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory_ was. From what she knew, Harry did not grow up in a particularly bookish household. The friends continued to talk until their mugs were both empty and McGonagall peered in to usher everyone out to return to the castle.

They met back up with Ron on the main street. He was loaded down with Honeydukes bags.

“I’m not trying to risk running out,” he insisted. “What if it rains again?”

“You better share with the dormitory,” Harry said. “Peppermint Toads are Dean's favorite.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll share.”

“I’ve said it before, but my parents would be horrified at how much candy you eat,” Hermione said plainly, shaking her head.

“Good thing it’s not their problem,” he grinned.

The students trudged back to the school grounds and mostly returned to their respective common rooms.

She checked the time on the grandfather clock. _4:15. I should go._

Hermione put away her parchment and made to leave. 

“Wait, we just got back,” Harry said, confused.

“May as well go for a walk while it's still nice out,” Hermione said casually. “I’ll be back before dinner.”

Ginny, who was sitting with a friend of hers on one of the couches, raised her eyebrows and smiled.

The brunette put a finger to her lips and smiled in return.

“Aye, there yeh are,” Hagrid said, opening the door. “Come inside, yer a bit early today. Wan’ any tea?”

Hermione shook her head. “I’m alright, Hagrid, but thank you.”

“S’pose you’ll be waitin' a bit fer yer boy.”

“He has a name.”

“I know he does, an’ I know he’s not as bad as he used ter be. Was a bit o’ a prat, ter be honest. Yer good for him.”

“I’d hope so.”

“Yeh only deserve the bes’, Hermione. If I catch a word of 'em treatin’ yeh wrong, I’ll teach ‘em a lesson.”

“I promise there’s no need,” she said reassuringly. 

“I'm jus’ sayin’! Heav’n forbid yeh do, but I’ll do it, I will. Yer a good friend ta meh.” Hagrid’s eyes got watery and he dabbed at them with a handkerchief that was closer to a baby blanket in size. “After yeh an’ Harry saved Buckbeak fer meh, I’ve owed yeh.”

“You’ve done more than enough for me. Letting me meet with Draco and go into the forest is only one small thing out of dozens.”

As if on cue, someone knocked at the door.

“Ah, there’s yer loverboy now,” Hagrid muttered. 

“Hello Hagrid,” Draco said stiffly. He was in the same grey sweater and black slacks as before, carrying a basket. “Sorry, I may be a little late, wanted to make sure no one could see me,” he apologized. “I’m a lot more conspicuous carrying picnic supplies.”

“I was just early,” Hermione said dismissively. “Here,” she said, handing him a folded green blanket they kept in the hut.

“Alright, off with yeh,” Hagrid said, opening the back door of the cottage. “Be back before dinner, an’ be safe. Don’t go touchin’ nothin’.”

He looked at Draco like a disapproving father. “That includes her.”

The blond kept his mouth closed and nodded solemnly, stepping out into Hagrid’s garden with Hermione. Once they were some distance down the path, Draco cautiously linked arms with Hermione. 

“Think he can see me?” he asked, clearly joking.

“We should be out of his sight,” she replied. She glanced down at the basket. “What’s in there besides the candy?”

“I stopped by the kitchens before I left. Asked for a basket and gave the elves a few Galleons to fill it up. It’s a surprise.”

“You paid them?”

“I’m a changed man,” he said with a faux air of superiority. “Even if I wasn't though—I’m not stupid. I know how you feel about magical creature rights.”

“I’m amazed,” she said in a mix of sarcasm and real disbelief. 

They arrived at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. This particular area was just far enough away that it was barely visible from the castle, but close enough to be relatively safe. The first time the couple had picnicked they set up there. Now it was sort of their spot.

Draco handed off the basket to Hermione and spread out the blanket. She knelt down and took out two small plates, two blunt knives, some kind of soft cheese, sliced bread, nuts, and strawberries. The bag of Every-Flavor Beans was tucked in alongside, but she left it for later.

“I’ll have to thank the elves tonight,” Hermione said.

“They looked afraid of me at first,” Draco commented, taking a piece of bread. “Cheered up once they saw the gold though.”

The sky was a happy blue, with the occasional drifting cloud. Hermione usually didn't mind rain, but it made seeing Draco harder. Astra was apparently rather sensitive to inclement weather and squawked unhappily when she had to fly in it.

Draco sat with his back against a tree trunk, passing Hermione the occasional strawberry as they chatted. 

“It was really nice to talk to Harry today,” she said.

“I mean you have been rather occupied,” Malfoy said with a suggestive edge to his voice.

“I’m going to ignore that,” Hermione said. 

He kissed her. “Whatever you say, Granger, I know you love it.”

“Has anyone asked where you’ve been?”

He shook his head. “Crabbe and Goyle aren't the brightest, and most people are still intimidated by me. Works out rather well."

“You’re lucky.”

Draco squinted at her and put his arms behind his head. “Have people been suspicious?”

“No, it's that I still feel bad lying when Ron or Harry asks where I'm going.”

“That's my Gryffindor,” he laughed. “Take a page from a Slytherin—what they don't know can't hurt them.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, but we also can't do this forever. I can only burn so many scraps of parchment in the fire without drawing attention to myself.”

Draco rested his hand on hers. “Whenever you’re ready. You were the one most concerned about it, and being public at school doesn't mean _everyone_ has to know.” 

The word “everyone” was essentially shorthand for _my family, in particular my father, who hates you simply because you exist_.

“Thank you.”

“Besides, if anyone has anything to say about it I can always hex them.”

“Draco!”

“I’m not joking, if someone tries to be mean to my girlfriend, they'll be vomiting slugs like Weasley did.”

“I'm capable of doing that myself.”

“I know, you've threatened me and made good on it on a few occasions. It’s the principle of the thing. I may be a blood traitor but I have _some_ dignity.”

“I can't fully condone it, but so long as the furthest it goes is slugs, I suppose I can let it slide,” she said in a pretend serious tone. She broke partway through and started laughing a little.

“However did I get so incredibly lucky?”

“Obnoxious persistence, Malfoy.”

They kissed again. Draco’s hand found her waist and drew her closer. 

They nearly got carried away, but he noticed Hagrid leaving his hut. The blond turned his wrist to check the time.

He cursed under his breath. “Bloody hell, Hermione. We’re going to be late. It’s my fault, should have checked my watch earlier . . .”

She turned around just in time to see the half giant’s looming figure enter the castle. “Merlin’s beard!”

They scrambled to gather everything and ran up the path back to Hagrid's cottage. Hermione tugged on the handle. “It’s locked . . . _Alohomora,_ ” she whispered.

The door swung open and they tossed the evidence onto a chair. “Thank Merlin he doesn't have better locks,” Draco muttered. They shared a quick kiss and darted back out.

Hermione’s breath was ragged and uneven from running and anxiety. She tried to calm down before entering the Great Hall. Without saying a word, she squeezed between Dean and Harry.

From a few seats away, Ginny was making a confused face and mouthed, “Draco?” at her.

Hermione made an expression that hopefully conveyed, _Yes, but now is_ not _the time._

“Oi, you’re late,” Harry said. 

“Lost track of time,” she said, trying to conceal the breathlessness in her voice. As she spoke, Draco came in through the opposite door and sat at the end of the Slytherin table. Thankfully, Harry wasn't facing that direction.

He narrowed his gaze and glanced across the table to Ron. They shared a look that didn't help ease the twisting sensation in Hermione’s stomach.


	8. If I Bleed

She could barely sleep that night. Normally Ron and Harry’s questions were easily answered and dismissed. They certainly didn't seem content this time.

The other issue was Ginny. It wasn't her fault that she was very expressive and had a small lack of impulse control. Sure, she could verbally keep a secret, but her face would give it away every time. _Sweet as she is, that maybe wasn't the best idea._

Hermione was mentally tearing apart every decision she’d made, every possible clue that could add up to a sufficient trail of breadcrumbs to connect her and Malfoy. The more she thought, the more she worried that she’d given herself and Draco away entirely. It was hard to tell if it was valid concern or paranoid theorizing.

Astra normally woke her up, but Hermione never actually went to sleep for any significant length of time. She took the parchment and mumbled the revealing spell.

_H, darling,_

_We really cut it close last night, didn't we? I really should have paid more attention to the time, but I can't change that now. Owl me back as soon as you can, you looked distressed at dinner. Did something happen?_

_Yours,_

_D.M._

Hermione quickly wrote back.

_D,_

_I’m worried H and R figured it out. I’m not entirely sure if they did, but it may be best to tell them myself as soon as possible. I can explain better in person._

_Yours,_

_H.G._

She tied the paper to Astra and the bird flew off. After getting dressed in a hurry, Hermione checked the common room and upon seeing it empty, tossed Draco’s parchment into the fireplace. The idea of no longer going through such an elaborate routine just to see her boyfriend was actually relieving. She tried to focus on that instead of the possibility of Ron and Harry refusing to speak to her again.

Hermione didn't want to make her friends think something was wrong, but she didn't want to be caught in a line of questioning first thing in the morning. She settled on sitting with Ginny. 

Instead of actually saying anything, Ginny just kept her eyebrows raised expectantly for about five minutes as she ate an English muffin. “So?” she finally asked in a lilting tone. “I saw you come in _rather_ late to dinner.”

“I know we’ve talked about this over meals before, but keep your voice down a little,” Hermione said sternly. “I’m afraid I took too big of a risk last night.”

“I’ll say,” Ginny said. “Harry seemed rather upset about it.”

“Bloody hell,” the brunette mumbled. She cradled her face in her hands in frustration. “Of course I _want_ to be able to tell him and Ron—”

“But it's worse if they discover it themselves?”

“Precisely. It only makes me look more dishonest. I don't need any help there,” she admitted. She glanced to the side toward her friends, who were eating and talking like normal. 

“So when do you plan to tell them? If the cat’s nearly out of the bag there’s no point in delaying it,” Ginny said wisely.

“I’m thinking it may have to be today,” Hermione said soberly. “Draco says that the timing’s my choice, and he’s there to support me should I need it.”

“If I didn't know better, I’d say you had some sort of enchantment on him. It’s sort of incredible,” Ginny giggled. 

Although she nearly fell asleep on her desk in Charms, Hermione managed to make it through her classes. Looking stressed or worried would only fuel Harry and Ron’s conspiracies. 

_I can't go to the common room._

She decided to sit in the courtyard for a while. The rain was supposed to return later in the evening, but for now it was dry, if a bit cloudy. Hermione finished her essay for Transfiguration and turned to reading a chapter for Care of Magical Creatures. 

Among the students passing by, she saw a glimpse of white blond hair. 

“Hermione?” Draco asked in a hushed tone. “I got your owl this morning. What are you going to do?”

Hermione’s eyes darted around cautiously. _They must be in the common room._

“I don't _know_ what to do, Draco,” she said. “I haven't spoken to Harry or Ron all day.”

“Since when do you cower from anything?” he asked. 

“Since today, I suppose. Merlin, I wish I could just sit and explain everything without any interruption so they had a chance to understand. If I start with ‘I’m dating Malfoy’, they’ll go mental.”

“I’m sorry. I could put a Silencing charm on them?” he offered, putting his hand on her shoulder supportively.

“Maybe a tad extreme, but I appreciate the—”

“Get off her, Malfoy!”

Hermione looked across the courtyard to see Ron. His face was bright red.

Draco froze and his hand moved to rest on his wand.

“Oi! Don't stand there like you’re deaf, I know you can hear me!” Ron shouted.

“Ron, he's not bothering me!” 

The ginger boy furrowed his brow. “He was _touching_ you!” 

A look of dumbstruck realization formed on his face.

“He must have you on that stupid potion again.” He drew his wand and pointed it at Draco’s chest. 

“I swear, if you've done something to Hermione, I’ll have your head for it. No wonder she’s been acting so bloody strange, it’s all _your_ fault again!” 

Draco’s eyes shifted to Hermione for a moment as if asking permission. His grip tightened on the wand in his back pocket and he pulled it out in anticipation.

Hermione stood, indignant, and moved between the two boys. She brandished her wand. “Both of you, drop your wands.”

Ron sheepishly let his fall to the ground. Draco bent at the waist and delicately set his own on the bench.

“How are you such a snob about dropping your wand?” the redhead sneered.

It was clear in his face that Malfoy was restraining himself from replying.

“We are not having this conversation _here_ of all places,” Hermione said harshly. The confrontation had drawn a small crowd of awed onlookers. She moved to snatch both of their wands and shoved them in her bag.

“Gryffindor common room. Now. And no funny business on the way, either.” she ordered.

She started storming away and the crowd split around her.

The boys followed distantly behind.

-

  
  
  


The group didn't even make it to Gryffindor tower. Harry was running down the hallway and stopped when he rounded the corner.

“Hermione, what the bloody hell! Fred and George just told me you were mediating some sort of fight with—” Harry's ragged breath paused. He wiped his glasses on his shirt and suddenly seemed to notice the two people accompanying her.

“. . . Ron and Malfoy,” he said weakly.

Ron took the chance to step forward as Hermione was trying to gather the words to explain.

“Malfoy’s dosed her again! He was touching her arm and I told ‘em to get off, but she said to leave him alone!” Ron exclaimed in disbelief. “He’s lucky Hermione told me to stop.”

“I told you both to stop!” Hermione protested, holding out her non-wand hand to keep Draco back. “Harry, I need you to believe me. You may even need to believe Draco.”

Harry was gripping his wand now and looked thoroughly disoriented. “How am I supposed to know if you’re on that potion or not?”

She quickly tried to think back to the effects of Amortentia. She turned to Draco, who was wandless, and shouted, “Stupefy!”

He let out a sickening groan as the spell slammed into his chest. “Sorry,” she mumbled. Malfoy’s knees buckled and he collapsed onto the ground.

She turned to Harry with her eyebrows cocked. “Does that prove my sobriety?”

Her dark haired friend nodded slowly. 

“Brilliant, now the two of you carry him. We need to talk.”

Ron and Harry looked at each other in shock and disgust. Hermione glared at them, and they grumbled as they each reluctantly took one of Draco’s arms over their shoulders.

They followed her lead out of a side corridor to avoid attention, then down the winding path to Hagrid’s hut.

Draco’s feet bumping along the uneven ground brought him back to consciousness. The boys gratefully unloaded him to walk by himself.

Hermione knocked on Hagrid’s door.

“'ello, Hermione. Lovely ter see yeh. Yeh got yer boy with yeh or . . .” he started, trailing off as his vision moved from Hermione to the grumpy trio behind her.

Ron squinted. “Who’s her boy?”

Draco raised his hand. “That would be me, Weasley.”

She made an urgent expression and Hagrid clumsily stepped aside. “Er, come in, I s’pose.”

Once everyone was seated the half-giant closed the door and drew the curtains. “I get the feelin’ this may get violent, so lemme say this: no duelin’ or fightin’ of any kind in me hut. Besides, I’ve to report it if yeh do. Still a professor an’ all.”

The boys mumbled agreement.

Ron’s eyes were glazed over. “God, this must be a bloody dream. A nightmare, really.”

“I hate to tell you but it is very much real,” Hermione said.

“Fantastic, then please explain why you were stopping a duel between Ron and Malfoy!” Harry demanded.

“And why Hagrid just called him 'your boy’,” Ron added hazily.

She took a long breath. “Draco and I are dating. Have been dating, in fact.”

“How long?” Harry asked.

Hermione looked to Draco. “What day was it? Late February?”

“25th,” he replied casually.

“The 25th of February,” she repeated.

Ron counted on his fingers. “Today’s the 15th. That’s nearly three weeks!”

“When were you going to bloody tell us?” Harry asked outraged. “I imagine it wouldn't have been any time soon!”

“You’ve certainly been more than friendly for longer than that,” Ron said in an accusatory tone.

Hermione gaped and fumbled for her words, but Draco raised a finger. 

“Potter, if you’re going to get upset, you can take it up with me,” he said levelly. “Being sneaky wasn't Hermione’s idea; it was mine.”

The black haired boy and the ginger looked unconvinced but let Draco continue. 

“She told me initially that she didn't think it could work. I proposed—” Ron and Harry’s eyes threatened to escape their heads and Malfoy rushed to add, “that we keep it a secret, not that kind of proposal.”

The boys' terrified faces quickly deflated. “Thank Merlin,” Ron muttered.

“My point is, if you’re going to blow steam at someone it should be me, not her,” Draco finished.

“Hold on,” Harry said, staring at the floor. “Hagrid, you knew about this?”

Hagrid’s face went pink. “Well, when Hermione asked meh to help her, I couldn’t say no. Ter be fair, I wasn’ happy about havin’ him about me hut, but I trusted her enough.”

“You _helped_ her?” Ron asked.

“She told me she was gettin’ around teh tellin’ yeh!”

Harry ran his hands anxiously through his hair. “Bloody hell, this is just brilliant.”

“You see why I didn't tell you?” Hermione said angrily. “This is exactly what I was scared of.”

“Come off it, Malfoy probably didn't want his precious reputation smeared by dating a _Muggle-born,"_ Ron spat.

Draco’s arms tensed. “Don’t pretend to know me, Weasley. The opinion of the masses at Hogwarts means nothing."

“What was it then, your father?” Harry jeered.

“Yes,” Malfoy said. He adjusted his seated position so his elbows rested on his knees.

“However, my father does not attend this school nor would I expect him to know the latest petty gossip. I intended to protect Hermione from ridicule, and more importantly, to maintain her relationships with the both of you. If it weren't for that you would both be flat on your backs,” he said firmly.

“You’re not her bodyguard!” Harry replied.

“You’re not the only people who care about her!”

Ron opened his mouth to speak but Malfoy steamrolled him without pause.

“I love her, and what I care about is her well-being. You’re not helping that,” he said to the two Gryffindor boys. He stood and turned to Hermione.

“I’m sorry, I can’t be in here with them any longer. Even unarmed, I’m tempted to do something you won't like,” Draco said somberly. She silently handed him his wand from her bag. 

The blond Slytherin took it and left, the door slamming loudly behind him. 


	9. Killing Me Slow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: emetophobia, vomiting, symptoms of nausea
> 
> starts and ends with the asterisks for those who want to skip <3

Hagrid slapped his thighs with his hands and stood. “Well, that went abou’ as well as yeh could’ve hoped.”

Hermione was unable to move. Her mind couldn't fully process the weight of everything that had occurred in the past few minutes alone.

Ron shook his head as if coming out of a trance. “Wait, did Malfoy say what I think he said?”

“I assumed I misheard,” Harry said. He looked to Hermione, frozen in her chair. “Has he said . . .  _ that _ before?”

The most she could do was shake her head.

“Merlin,” Ron cursed softly. 

Hagrid looked extremely awkward. “Listen, I think you two should go on,” he said, gesturing to the boys on the couch. He jerked his head toward the door. “She needs ter be alone fer a bit, methinks.”

Ron and Harry stiffly got up and left.

“I know yeh probably don’t feel that way, but yeh did the right thing, Hermione,” Hagrid said. “I dunno wha’ happened before yeh came in but good on yeh.”

“I didn't have much of a choice,” she said weakly. “Ron saw Draco with me and he went a bit mental about it, and I had to keep them from dueling each other to death. They attracted a whole crowd of witnesses too.”

“They both ‘ave a bit o’ a temper, they do.”

Hermione cleared her throat and continued. “After that, I dragged them with me to find Harry. I considered talking to them in the common room, but the Fat Lady isn't the best at keeping secrets. Besides, Ron and Harry would hate the idea of any Slytherin going into Gryffindor tower, particularly Draco.”

“Yer not wrong. They needed some adult supervision, otherwise the lot of ‘em would’ve spent the night at Madam Pomfrey's.”

“I was a little worried about that.”

Hagrid handed her a teacup and dropped a sugar cube in. “Well, it’s done an’ over now, ain’t it?”

“Judging by the way Draco left, I doubt it is.”

“I can tell yeh, that boy cares an awful lot about yeh. He took the fall in front o’ Harry an’ Ron.”

“He didn't need to do that,” Hermione started.

“Sure, but was it true?” Hagrid asked.

“Yes, I suppose so—”

“Then don’t be upset with ‘em. Yer all kids, he was tryin’ his bes’. Yeh heard ‘em yehself, he loves yeh.”

Hermione’s vision went a little blurry again and her eyes darted down.

Hagrid’s dark eyes flashed. “Has he not said that to yeh before?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Oh.”

“I should probably go,” she said, setting down the untouched tea. “Thank you for . . . the tea, and letting me in, but it’s dinner soon anyway.”

“Alright,” Hagrid replied gently. “If yeh need anythin’, I’m right here.”

“Okay.” With that she left the cottage, walking back up the path in the dim dusk. She didn't have much of an appetite, but she went to the Great Hall for dinner anyway.

The cheerful atmosphere made Hermione feel very out of place. Ron and Harry were already seated, looking grim and tired. They picked at their food with disinterest.

“Could I have my wand back?” Ron asked timidly.

“Oh, yes,” Hermione said absentmindedly. She handed it to him across the table.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

She searched the Slytherin table for Draco, but he was nowhere to be seen. She felt a weight settle into the pit of her stomach. 

Watching the three people she cared about most fight had been exhausting. Her thoughts were swirling, replaying Draco’s voice saying  _ “I love her _ ” and Harry and Ron’s outraged faces over and over. 

Hermione stared off into space as her mind tried to organize the evening’s events. Her boyfriend had confessed his love for her in the heat of the moment, threw himself under the bus defending the secrecy of their relationship, and got verbally thrashed in the process. Her two closest friends were presumably still pissed at her, and one of them was fully prepared to attack her boyfriend in a duel without hesitation. And of course, the near-duel took place in front of half the school. 

****

Her head was pounding and her mouth went dry.

She got up from the table and politely walked out of the Great Hall. As soon as she passed the threshold she dashed into the nearest bathroom and vomited bile.

Hermione slumped against the stall door, her face flushed and sweaty. Her stomach felt better, but the dread lingered. 

_ Is there even a way to fix this? What can I do?  _

There was little she hated more than feeling as if she had no control. She couldn't even identify one specific problem, much less find and implement a solution.

She sighed, wiped her mouth, and rinsed with water from the sink. The taste still stuck around like the guilt in her chest. 

****

Draco was likely in his common room, but she didn't know this week’s password and no Slytherin would give it to her willingly. For now she was still standing on the first floor girl’s bathroom, staring into the mirror.

She picked up her bag where she had let it drop from her shoulder running in. Using the wall as a writing surface, she wrote:

_ D, _

_ I have a lot to say and it feels ridiculous to do so in a letter. Find me sometime soon, I didn't see you at dinner. _

_ Yours, _

_ H.G. _

She tucked the note into her bag and walked out pretending nothing had happened. Astra was perched in the Owlery, hooting happily. Hermione attached the scroll and gave the bird a few gentle pets. She didn't know exactly how or when Draco got her owls, given the Slytherin dorms' location, but she hoped it would be soon.


	10. No Rules

Exhaustion overtook Hermione’s anxiety and she slept with relative ease in comparison to other nights. The thin light of the morning eventually woke her. Something in her heart ached to see an empty windowsill, but she remembered that Draco couldn't have already received her owl.

Upon walking into the Gryffindor common room, the few people who had been chatting went dead silent and gawked. Anything the Weasley twins said spread like wildfire and the news of the Weasley/Malfoy fake out duel, only prevented by Hermione Granger, was apparently no exception. _Brilliant_.

She noticed a few more awed stares as she went about her schedule. In Herbology, Neville elbowed Ron.

“Is it true you almost fought Malfoy yesterday?” Neville asked. 

Ron puffed up a little. “Yeah, I sure did. Would’ve won too.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. 

“Fred and George were telling everyone in the common room about it, said Hermione stopped it."

“Yes, I did,” she snapped, stabbing her spade into the pot she was working with. “I wasn't expecting it to become gossip.”

Neville went quiet and returned to his work.

For the rest of the day she chose to glare fiercely at anyone who tried to prod about it instead of answering their questions.

Draco was present in the classes they shared, but he didn't seem fully there. He didn't chat with Crabbe or Goyle or anyone else, and his eyes looked sad.

She’d seen Astra fly into the Great Hall; Hermione still wasn't particularly peckish and so spent the meal time watching the owls. She was beginning to think she hadn't conveyed how urgent the situation was until he approached her outside Transfiguration.

She flinched and instinctively whispered, “Draco, there's too many people, we can’t—”

He cut her off. “We’re somewhat public now, remember? Either way, people can't shut up about that spectacle in the courtyard, so they probably think we're talking about that.”

“Right. You got my owl?”

He nodded. 

“I know we're not technically keeping it a secret anymore, but I would rather discuss this more privately,” she said.

The two headed outside and sat on the hill overlooking the Quidditch pitch.

“What is it?” Draco asked expectantly.

“Firstly, about what you said yesterday . . .”

“Listen, I know you wanted to tell Potter and Weasley yourself and take responsibility and all, but it was my idea, and they were being—” Malfoy started.

“That’s not what I was referring to, but I do agree.”

His pale face went a bit red.

“I was talking about what you said right before you left,” she finished.

The flush deepened. “Ah. That,” he said, fiddling with his ring. “I meant it, you know.”

He ducked his head shyly. “I didn't really plan on saying it, it sort of slipped out. I was bloody pissed. Potter was getting on my last nerve, acting like he and Weasley are the only ones concerned about what’s good for you.”

“You don't need to act tough about it. I love you too,” she said simply.

Draco kissed her deep and slow, his hand on her chin. The other hand held hers and stayed there after they pulled away.

“I think it nearly gave Ron and Harry heart attacks though,” Hermione said. “They looked absolutely shocked.”

“Have you spoken to either of them about it since?”

She shook her head. “Haven't gotten around to it. I reckon they need time. But even if you didn't intend to say it, I think saying you love me like that may have convinced them a bit.”

“They’re clearly protective. Likely just thinking I have bad intentions,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. “Bloody hell, does Weasley have a short fuse on him.”

“I cannot believe he was so ready to duel you! In broad daylight!

“I’d have done it too, if you didn't get between us,” he said. “He was being a hot-headed idiot and I’d have taught him a lesson.”

“He certainly was being impulsive.” Hermione admitted. “I hate most of all that they found out like that—essentially by accident, all because we weren't being careful enough.”

“Well, you said you wanted to tell them soon. Jinxed yourself,” Draco teased. 

“I am sorry I walked out like that and left you to deal with the aftermath,” he said more seriously. “Can’t imagine how that felt.”

“Thank you,” she said.

A group of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors walked past, staring over their shoulders. Their gazes snapped away as soon as Draco turned. 

“We’re going to have to get used to that, aren’t we?” he said.

“When you're friends with Harry Potter, you barely notice after a while.”

He kissed her forehead. “Go talk to him and Weasley. You’ve sorted things out with me.”

-

The Fat Lady’s eyes sparkled with mischief as Hermione approached her portrait.

“Hello Ms. Granger,” she said. “I just heard about that scuffle in the courtyard the other day. No surprise that Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy are fighting, but rather juicy you got in the middle of it.”

“Just let me in,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

“You won't even spare me a single detail?”

“No!”

“Password, then?” the Fat Lady replied coolly. 

“ _Gladius_.”

“Hmmph,” the woman said, reluctantly swinging the door open.

Either no one really cared about the latest gossip by this point, or her glaring had worked better than expected, because almost no one seemed to notice Hermione’s entrance. 

Harry and Ron did, though.

“Hermione,” Harry started, but she cut him off.

“Both of you, listen. No talking. You ran your mouths enough yesterday and look where it got us,” she scolded, sitting down cross-legged in front of them on a cushion.

They awkwardly shifted in their chairs. 

“I lied,” she began. “I shouldn't have done it, and I’m incredibly sorry. It was dishonest and unfair.”

“Thanks,” the boys said.

“However,” she said, “in the future, please restrain yourselves from battling for my honor like medieval knights and acting like I am incapable of deciding things for myself. I know you care about me, but for Merlin's sake!”

“Sorry, ‘Mione,” Ron muttered.

“I’m sorry too, it's just . . . it’s Malfoy,” Harry said.

“I’m not expecting you three to be the best of friends, but if you all could be in the same room together without nearly tearing each others’ throats to ribbons, I'd be very grateful.” 

She paused. “I understand why you feel the way you do, I completely do, but I love him. I hope that you both want what makes me happy.”

“‘Course we do,” the dark haired boy said quietly.

“I’m fine with that, but does that mean I have to see you kiss him? Ron asked, clearly uncomfortable. “I’ll put up with it and all, but—”

“God, Ronald, you’re such a child. He’s not that type anyway,” Hermione added.

“So long as you're happy, then,” Ron said.

She stood and embraced them both. “Thank you.”

“So are you going to be telling people now?” Harry asked.

“Well, I don't think we’ll be making an announcement or anything, but we won't be sneaking around like we were,” Hermione clarified. “And don't worry about me, if anybody has a problem, Draco’s already promised to handle it.”

-

  
  


Astra landed on Hermione’s windowsill the next morning. Lavender was already awake.

 _Bloody hell, she usually sleeps late! It’s not secret anymore but I don’t know how she’ll react—it’s fine. It’s fine. If she asks who the owl belongs to, I suppose I’ll tell her the truth_.

“Good girl,” Hermione cooed softly as she stroked Astra’s head. The bird ruffled her wings and flew off.

Lavender looked over her shoulder. “Pretty owl,” she said. She returned to fixing her tie in the mirror.

Hermione was flooded with relief.

The parchment read:

_Hermione,_

_I figure I can start using your actual name in our notes now. I hope everything went well talking to Potter and Weasley—you can tell me later. I’ll see you in the courtyard after classes._

_Love,_

_Draco_

She smiled and tucked it into one of her books.

-

Hermione was anxious for the school day to end. She wanted to talk to Draco and assure him that everything was well with Harry and Ron, but she also worried about interacting with him publicly. 

She'd finished her last class and was walking toward the courtyard when she heard a familiar shrill voice call out behind her.

“Granger? Dropped something, by any chance?”

Her blood ran cold. She turned to see Pansy Parkinson gleefully dangling Draco’s note from her fingers. “ _Love, Draco_ ,” she read aloud, sneering. “Did you write this during class?”

“Give it back, Pansy.”

“It’s a rather impressive forgery,” the Slytherin girl said. “Must have studied his handwriting for a _looooong_ time to get it right.”

“Give it back,” Hermione said again. trying to stay calm.

“Don’t think I will,” Pansy said. “God, I supposed that your stupid little crush on Draco would have gone away by now.”

A few students of various houses that were passing by had stopped. A stringy-looking Slytherin boy behind Pansy snickered.

Hermione reluctantly took out her wand but kept it hidden behind her. “You’re not one to talk, you’ve been hanging on him like a coat since first year,” she replied. 

Pansy’s face flushed red for a moment. “Shut up, Granger. Admit it, this note couldn't possibly be from Draco! He’d never write this to a _filthy_ Mudblood like you.” 

Several of the onlookers gasped.

_How lovely, another crowd._

“Just because you have to write yourself love notes doesn't mean everyone else does,” Hermione spat.

Pansy’s eyes flared wide in anger. She pulled her wand out and said, clearly and loudly, “ _Incendio_.”

Her wand produced a jet of flame from the tip that the girl began to wave dangerously close to the parchment. “Wanna say that again, Granger?”

Even at a distance Hermione could see the edges of the note begin to blacken. 

“Go on, come and get your precious little letter,” Pansy sneered. 

The Gryffindor stepped forward a little and Pansy slightly lowered the parchment into the fire.

Without thinking Hermione aimed her wand at the Slytherin and shouted, “Expelliarmus!”

Pansy shrieked as her lit wand flew from her hand and hit the floor, extinguishing the flame. In her panic, the note fell.

Hermione quietly cast an extinguishing charm. A small trail of smoke floated up into the air. She moved forward to collect the letter from the floor and quickly shoved it into her robes pocket.

“Ladies,” a firm voice said. 

The small gathered crowd scattered to reveal Professor McGonagall, looking rather cross.

“Miss Parkinson. Miss Granger,” McGonagall said with displeasure in her voice. “Come with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gladius: Latin for sword


	11. Like A Devil

The shelves in Minerva McGonagall’s office were filled with extra textbooks and thick tomes of magical theory. Her pointed green hat hung on a coat rack in the back corner along with her Gryffindor scarf. Her desk sat in front of a large window, filling the room with late afternoon light. 

Pansy was sent away to Snape’s office with her own Head of House.

“Now, Miss Granger,” the older woman said sternly, “I’m sure you have an explanation for why you have been present at two apparent duels in the past three days. As you know, dueling is strictly prohibited at Hogwarts.”

“I stopped the first one,” Hermione said quickly.

“So I heard. However, you were directly involved with this incident with Miss Parkinson, correct?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Could you describe how and why exactly you engaged with her?”

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. “Well, she was burning something of mine with her wand. I disarmed her and then cast an extinguishing charm.” She dug around in her pocket and produced the singed parchment. 

“What happened prior to her burning this?” McGonagall asked, carefully inspecting the blackened edges of the folded paper. She spread it out flat on her desk.

The brunette girl felt herself blush and glanced down to the floor. “It had fallen from one of my books, and Pansy picked it up and was making fun of me. She called me a Mudblood.”

The professor adjusted her glasses on her nose and started to read the note. “Oh. I see,” she said awkwardly. “This is obviously personal correspondence, and its state aligns with your version of events, so you may have it back.”

Hermione took the parchment.

The older witch paused and then asked, delicately, “I can only assume from the content of that letter that you and Mr. Malfoy are . . . involved?”

She nodded.

“I see,” McGonagall noted, a mysterious glint in her green eyes. “I will be speaking with Professor Snape to discuss a course of action. For now, however, you are free to go. I’ll summon you back to my office once we come to a conclusion.”

“Yes, Professor. Thank you.”

“There’s no need, Miss Granger.”

Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder and hurried out.

_He’s probably worried, he assumed we would meet right after classes and it's been almost thirty minutes._

She turned the corner and saw a somewhat frantic Draco.

“First of all, there you are, I was getting concerned. Second, I heard what happened with Pansy and I’m going to snap her neck if it’s the last thing I do, and third, if you get expelled for simply _disarming_ her, Dumbledore will never hear the last of it,” he rattled off. 

_Merlin, the gossip in this school._

“Calm down, I haven't received a punishment yet, and I didn't get sent to Dumbledore. Besides, I didn't even injure her.”

“If I was in your position I’d have done far worse than disarm,” Draco admitted. “Did you get the parchment back?”

She drew it from her pocket. “Still mostly intact.”

“Good. God, I wish I’d been there,” he muttered. “Could've said the letter was mine and kissed you in front of everyone.”

“I think Pansy would have fainted out of shock,” Hermione laughed.

“Serves her right. I like Snape well enough but I know he’d jump to make a Gryffindor look bad,” he warned. “He can't pin the blame on you with that sort of evidence though.”

“I’m almost glad that there were witnesses.”

“So it should be alright?”

Hermione nodded.

He kissed her. Even though their prior conversation and the confrontation with Pansy combined were incriminating enough, kissing in the halls of Hogwarts still made her a little nervous.

“I’ll see you at dinner, darling,” he said softly. 

“Alright.”

“Don't get into any more trouble,” he teased. “Threatening Pansy is going to take up my whole weekend.”

“DRACO! That won’t help anything—”

“Can't hear you!” he called.

_If I didn't stop him, he’d already be expelled for going at people on my behalf._

She turned to walk to Gryffindor tower to do her homework. Upon entering, the Weasley twins greeted her.

“Second duel of the week, eh Hermione?” Fred asked.

George strode up alongside his brother. “And I thought that _we_ got in trouble a lot.”

Hermione went red. 

“We’re right proud,” Fred joked.

“How do you already know what happened with Pansy?” she asked skeptically.

“We just do,” they said in unison. 

“Is the part about you and Malfoy true?” George asked with a lilt in his voice.

“I—well, yes,” she stammered, feeling her face heat up more.

“Lucky man!” they cheered, in unison once again. The twins each gave her a pat on the back.

Harry and Ron were squinting at her in bewilderment. 

“Sorry, we apparently haven't heard the latest news,”

Harry said. “What happened? What duel?”

“To make it short, Pansy picked up a note from Draco that had fallen on the floor and started saying I probably wrote it myself. I tried to get her to stop, but then she started burning it. So I disarmed her.”

“Did you get in trouble?” Ron asked, amazed.

“Well, I'm not quite sure yet.”

“That’s nothing,” Harry said dismissively. “Dumbledore’s a reasonable man, he’ll understand.”

“I’d hope so. Draco was getting worked up about it, so if we hear anything about Pansy ending up in the hospital wing, it was him, not me,” she swore.

“Geez, Hermione, you should keep your guard dog on a leash,” the Weasley boy said.

“Very funny.”

-

Hermione and Draco made the risky decision to walk to class together. 

“Tell me why this isn't as bad as I expected?” she whispered. 

“People are self-absorbed,” he said casually. “They don't pay nearly as much attention to you as you think.”

“I’m probably going to be called to McGonagall’s today,” she said. “I brought the note along just in case.”

“I'm telling you, if they try to expel you they're utter fools. If I could I’d absolutely get my father involved—”

“But you can’t,” she finished.

“But I can’t.” 

“He’d probably try to get me kicked out, actually.”

“Yes. He would,” Draco said seriously.

As they walked into Charms Professor Flitwick waved Hermione over.

“Hello Miss Granger,” he said cheerfully. “I’ve been informed by Professor McGonagall that you and Miss Parkinson are to report to Professor Dumbledore.”

He gave her a wink and gestured for her to lean down. “Normally I’d assign extra work to make up for missing the class, but I hardly find it necessary for you.”

She beamed. “Thank you, professor.”

Pansy was waiting by the door and gagged dramatically when Harry and Ron gave Hermione a thumbs up from their seats. Draco gave her a quick smile that the Slytherin girl didn't notice.

The two girls walked in tense silence up to the entrance to the Headmaster’s office. McGonagall greeted them curtly and said the password, “Licorice.”

Professor Snape was standing by Dumbledore’s desk looking thoroughly unamused as usual. Dumbledore, in contrast, smiled warmly. “Hello, Miss Parkinson, Miss Granger,” he said in turn. “Please, have a seat. Take a candy if you'd like.” There was an overflowing bowl of sherbet lemons in front of them.

“You know why you’re here, so I assume we can move along,” the bearded man said. “I have spoken to both of your Heads of Houses, but I’d like to ask a few questions of you both.”

Snape fixed his cold gaze on Hermione. “I think the situation is rather clear. Miss Granger engaged the duel by disarming Miss Parkinson, and should be appropriately punished.”

Dumbledore ignored the dark haired man’s comment. “Hermione, I was told that Pansy was burning something of yours. Do you have it?”

Hermione pulled the note from her pocket. Some of the burnt parts had started to flake away from being handled and she brushed her hands on her robes.

As Dumbledore looked it over, Snape said without breaking his stare, “I’d like to see it as well. I find it rather suspicious that Miss Granger was so aggressive over parchment.”

The headmaster silently passed it to Snape. “What could you have been so concerned about—oh,” he said, suddenly looking a bit uncomfortable.

“May I have it back please?” Hermione asked firmly. 

The potions master returned the parchment with a clear look of disgust. 

“Thank you, Hermione,” Dumbledore said. “Now, with the evidence I have, I’ve determined that neither of you shall be expelled for dueling.

_Thank Merlin._

“However, take this as a warning: any further use of unjustified defensive spells will not be taken as lightly. And to Pansy, refrain from confiscating other students’ personal items and attempting to destroy them.”

McGonagall pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows. “Is that all, Headmaster?”

He nodded. “That is all.” He stood and began to wave everyone out. “Please return to your classrooms, and thank you, Severus and Minerva.”

Snape’s expression only soured further. McGonagall promptly turned and escorted the girls down the staircase and back to Charms. The older witch walked between them the whole time, but Hermione could see Pansy giving her nasty looks behind the professor’s back.

Hermione slipped into a seat next to Harry and Ron as subtly as she could.

“Oi, are you in trouble?” Ron whispered.

She shook her head vigorously.

The Weasley boy glanced over at Pansy. “She doesn't seem too happy. I assumed something bad.”

“Isn't that just what her face looks like all the time?” Harry asked.

“Well yes, she always looks angry about something, but I think she’s upset I’m not expelled,” Hermione said bitterly. “She kept glaring at me when McGonagall wasn't looking.”

“She's a prat, ‘Mione,” Harry said with displeasure in his voice.

When the class was dismissed, Pansy shoved through the rest of the students to get to Hermione. 

“What do you want, Pansy?” Hermione asked, annoyed.

“I can't believe you managed to get away with that,” she hissed. “All for a ridiculous fake note from Draco.”

The Gryffindor pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh. “You still think it's fake?”

“Obviously! You're pathetic enough to do it.”

“Alright then, Pansy. Tell me if this looks real,” she declared. “Hold my bag for me a moment.” She dumped her bag into Ron’s arms.

“Hey, wait, this thing is heavy!”

Hermione ignored him and marched ahead to find Draco, who turned around confused.

“Hello love,” she said sweetly.

He furrowed his eyebrows and glanced above her shoulder to see a smug-looking Pansy. “Hello, what’s—”

She cut him off with a searing kiss as jeers and hoots erupted from the surrounding students.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” she said, pulling away and giving his hand a squeeze.

“Uh, yeah. Yes, of course,” he replied, clearly a little dazed. He tried to keep his expression dead serious as everyone's gazes turned to Pansy.

She was bright scarlet. Her dark eyes darted around anxiously looking for an out, only to see everyone howling in amusement. She huffed away clearly furious and Hermione let herself join the laughter.

“Bloody hell,” Ron said, hushed. “Excuse my language but holy _shit_ , that was incredible.”

“I’ve never seen Pansy look so embarrassed,” Harry gasped.

“That was worth it,” Hermione agreed. “Sorry, Draco, she was just being so bloody smug—”

“God, no need to apologize,” the blond boy said between wheezing breaths. “That was so bloody satisfying.”

She was very proud of herself.  
  
  
  
  



	12. Want You More

Potions had been an awkward class for some time ever since Draco and Hermione became a public couple. Snape teaching it obviously didn't make things any better. He mostly ignored the Slytherins tossing crumpled balls of parchment with “mudblood” written on them at her, and the one time Pansy “accidentally” dumped an entire jar of crushed beetles on Hermione’s shoes, although that wasn't unusual for him.

So far, she couldn't tell if he was treating her or Malfoy any differently. Hermione even tried to be even more well-behaved so the professor couldn't find anything to complain about. O.W.L.s were coming up soon, after all.

Draco hung back in the hallway to wait for her to pack her things, and Hermione was about to leave with him to go to lunch.

“Miss Granger, stay a moment,” Snape said. With a wave of his wand the door to the classroom swung closed.

_I didn't get in trouble at all, what does he want with me?_

“What did you want to speak about?” she said, trying to sound unfazed.

“I hope you’re aware that your apparent . . . closeness, shall we say, with Mr. Malfoy will not gain you any favor with me or anyone else,” the professor said slowly. 

“I didn't expect it to, professor,” she insisted as she stepped forward. “I promise that my personal relationships have nothing to do with whether or not they benefit—”

“Good,” he cut her off. “I was rather surprised when I read that parchment. Quite out of character.”

“What are you referring to?” Hermione asked carefully.

“Your blood status in comparison to Mr. Malfoy’s. Very rare to see such a relationship between a notorious pureblood family and a Muggle-born.” He raised his eyebrow. “One could even say it’s suspicious.”

She recalled his revolted expression after reading the letter.

“Are you accusing me of something, professor? I find it highly inappropriate that you’re prying into my life in this manner.”

“I’m simply saying that perhaps it was not worth defending yourself from Miss Parkinson. I have not known you to be foolish, Miss Granger, and assuming the young Malfoy has genuine intentions is bordering on idiotic.” His cool, deadpan manner with that hint of condescension made hot anger stir in her chest.

“Thank you for the warning, but I’ll make my own decisions,” she said firmly. “Am I free to leave?”

“You are dismissed.”

She left without another word, silently fuming.

Malfoy squinted at her as they walked down the hall. 

“What did Snape want with you?”

“Apparently he thinks my romantic life is up for discussion,” she said through clenched teeth. “He essentially told me I’m ridiculous for dating a pureblood and accused me of doing it for academic favor! I don't even need it!”

“He’s probably just pissed that his least favorite student is dating his former favorite student.”

“He’s so bitter about everything,” Hermione huffed. “Snape finds every excuse to make things harder for me.”

“God, I wish I’d written something far worse in that parchment. If he’s going to be a git, it may as well be over something actually worth it," he drawled. There was a heavy suggestive tone in his voice.

“You wouldn't have.”

“Oh, I would.”

She shook her head and shuddered at the idea of Snape reading a more intimate note.

“You’re disgusting.” 

“That’s me,” he replied.

“Bloody hell, Draco, I can’t eat now.” 

She made to enter the Great Hall but he tugged her back by the sleeve.

“What is it?”

“If I’ve actually ruined your appetite, maybe you should skip dinner tonight and go to the Astronomy Tower instead,” he suggested with a mischievous spark in his eyes.

She bit her lip and broke eye contact to look down at the floor. “I’ll consider it.”

He kissed her forehead and let go of her robes. “I’ll see you at 6, then.”

-

Hermione didn't know what to expect. The look in his eyes could have meant several things, most of which she couldn't afford to contemplate during class without blushing.

_What on earth could he plan on such short notice? It’s not an anniversary or anything, we’ve barely been together for a month._

Her thoughts turned to frantic worrying about anniversaries and one-month milestones and whether or not the latter held any significance. _I guess I could ask Ginny or someone else about that later._

“Oi, are you not coming to dinner?” Ron asked, pausing in front of the Great Hall. 

“I have to study,” she said quickly. It was a believable excuse and not fully dishonest. 

Ron shrugged. “Alright, I’m going in—

Guilt suddenly came over her and she sighed. “Wait. I’m actually seeing Malfoy,” Hermione whispered.

The Weasley boy pretended to gag. “Run along then, I’ll tell Harry.”

“Thanks!” she called.

She managed to get most of the way to the tower without any odd looks or interrogation. She’d assumed she was in the clear until she saw a familiar set of green tartan robes.

“Miss Granger,” McGonagall said, stopping in the middle of the corridor. “I assume you know it's suppertime?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Then why are you headed in the opposite direction of the Great Hall?”

It was a legitimate question.

“Can I be honest?” Hermione asked hesitantly.

McGonagall looked curiously at her. “I would hope so, Granger.”

“I’m meeting Draco in the Astronomy Tower and I’m already two minutes late,” she blurted out.

She could have sworn she saw pink come to the professor’s face. 

“Oh, children never change,” McGonagall mumbled quietly, lowering her head. “Be off, then.”

The professor gave the girl a polite nod and proceeded on her way.

_That went far better than expected. Normally I’d have expected a detention or a warning at least._

Hermione decided not to question her small streak of luck any further and reached the entrance to the tower. She still had her school bag slung over her shoulder, and she quickly began to regret its weight as she trudged up the staircase. 

She pushed the door open. The room was completely filled in golden light from the approaching sunset. Draco was standing there with his hands in his pockets.

“I see you decided to come,” he said casually, looking out over the grounds.

“You made it sound very tempting,” she replied, hanging up her robes. Hermione allowed her bag to fall to the floor and she walked over to admire the view.

“I did my job properly then,” he said with a smirk.

They stood at the large window gazing at the sprawling forest and sparkling lake surrounding the castle. Their hands found the other’s on the rough stone. 

“I’ve never been up here at sunset,” she said. “Only at night.”

“It’ll be dark soon,” he said. “That’s why I have those.”

He tilted his chin toward the ceiling. Several white candles were floating up by the roof, the flames dancing and flickering.

“How did you do that?” she gasped. “It’s exactly like the Great Hall.”

“Don’t flatter me, darling. It’s not _exactly_ like it, and I’ve told you before—books. Found one on illusion charms. You forget I’m second in the year only to you.”

She was clearly distracted.

“I’ve had the idea for a while,” he added. 

“This is rather incredible,” she said in awe. 

The sun was beginning to fully set. It wasn't pitch dark yet, but the candles appeared brighter and brighter by comparison.

Draco walked away for a moment as she stared and soft classical music started to play. Hermione looked around in confusion to see a gramophone in the corner. 

“I know that isn’t a charm,” she said. 

“No,” he said simply.

“Wait . . . did you _steal_ that from a professor?”

“I prefer the term borrow. Don’t ask which one because I’m not telling.”

“Merlin, I got lucky with McGonagall in the hallway but that could actually get you in trouble!”

“You ran into her?”

“I told her I was meeting you and she just let me go. I expected far worse."

Draco turned a little red. “She read the note, didn't she?”

“Yes, she did,” Hermione laughed. She kissed him on the cheek.

“Now,” he said, “I didn't enchant the ceiling and _borrow_ this gramophone for nothing. Do you want to dance?”

“Excuse me, that’s not how a gentleman asks a _lady_ to dance,” she replied in a posh tone.

“Oh, my deepest condolences, Miss Granger. I’m afraid I’ve forgotten my upbringing,” he said apologetically. 

He bowed dramatically and took her hand. “Miss, may I have this dance?”

“Far better,” she said. “Yes, you may.”

As the sun disappeared over the hilly horizon, they began to dance together—more so swaying to the rhythm and holding each other close than anything McGonagall taught before the Yule Ball the previous year.

Draco spun Hermione out and brought her back in with his hand on her waist. 

She let her head fall onto his shoulder.

“It’s much easier when we’re alone,” he said softly.

“I know,” Hermione said. “I wish it was like this all the time.”

“It will be,” he said. “Someday.”

They kissed and stood still in the peaceful night. She could hear his heart beating.

“I love you,” he said, very quietly.

“I love you too.”

“However, as much as I wish we could stay here,” Draco said, checking his watch, “I think I need to get you back to Gryffindor tower before Potter and Weasley come hunt me down.”

He pulled his wand from his pocket and muttered an incantation. The ceiling returned to stone and wooden beams.

“Now you’ve decided to care about rules?” Hermione teased, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Better to be safe than sorry. I doubt whoever is on night watch will be as forgiving as McGonagall was, and there’s the risk of word getting back to my father if we’re caught up here,” he argued. “I’m trying to be the responsible one here, for Merlin’s sake.”

It was nowhere near curfew, but Astronomy Tower was strictly off limits outside of class hours.

She caved and collected her robes and bag. Draco removed the record from the gramophone. “I’ll get that later,” he mumbled.

They held hands as they quickly dashed down the winding staircase.

The couple stopped to observe the corridor. It was blessedly empty. Draco and Hermione were initially cautious, but relaxed once they were out of the hallway leading to the tower. They couldn't get in trouble for simply walking together.

As they approached the Fat Lady, the woman in the portrait had a deeply satisfied expression on her face.

“Well, well, Miss Granger. _Lovely_ to see you at this late hour,” she said salaciously.

“It’s not even 9 o’clock,” Hermione said.

The figure’s gaze shifted to Draco, who was still holding Hermione’s hand. “And good evening to you, Mr. Malfoy.”

He held his mouth straight across and nodded brusquely. 

“Rather talkative, isn’t he,” the Fat Lady mused sarcastically. “Handsome though. Suppose he doesn't need to talk.”

_Ew._

Draco shifted his weight from foot to foot. Hermione was growing rather uncomfortable too. She released his hand and crossed her arms. “Stop flirting with him and let me inside. Password is _Panthera leo.”_

The portrait quirked her eyebrow and opened the door.

Hermione turned to Draco and gave him a quick kiss. “Goodnight.

He hugged her close for a moment. “Goodnight.”

She ducked into the common room and the painting swung shut behind her.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> panthera leo is the genus name for lions


	13. These Trying Times

Ron swallowed a mouthful of pancakes. “How was your date, then?”

“Very nice actually,” Hermione said, buttering a slice of toast. “We came back before curfew and didn't have any problems.”

“I’m surprised you got away with going to the Astronomy Tower,” Harry said. “Professors watch it like hawks.”

“I mean, McGonagall didn't seem to care.”

“If good grades mean I can do whatever I want, I should study more,” Ron mumbled.

Harry smiled and pushed his hair away from his face. “I like rebellious Hermione.”

Astra dropped an envelope onto the table. 

“Ah, there’s the daily love letter,” the ginger said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Hermione carefully lifted the green wax seal and took out the parchment.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I know the tower was a risk, but I think it was well worth it. A nice reminder of the old days. I was thinking something less likely to get us expelled next time, maybe another picnic? I’m free Saturday after I study for Charms._

_Love,_

_Draco_

She smiled as she read it and Ron rolled his eyes. 

“I get that you're in love, but can you be in love away from my breakfast?”

“Oh, hush.”

Hermione tucked the paper back into the envelope and restuck the seal.

-

“He’s not at his normal seat,” she announced.

“Huh?” Harry asked.

“Draco. He’s not here,” she repeated. “He was in morning classes, though.”

“It’s fine,” Ron said dismissively, clearly not listening at all. “What _isn’t_ fine is my Charms grade.”

“You’re being negative, the test isn't until Monday,” Hermione chided.

“I should write my will in the meantime,” the redhead groaned. 

“I’m worried,” Hermione said, ignoring Ron's complaints. “He told me he’d move the gramophone back to wherever he got it from but it’s not exactly under the radar to skip a meal.”

“Can we change the subject back to my impending doom?” Ron said.

“Ron, you’re being dramatic,” Harry said. “It’s one exam.”

“If he gets caught, it’s my funeral too!” she insisted. 

“Hermione, I’m sure it’s alright. I’m not one to compliment Malfoy, but he’s clever,” the dark haired boy said reassuringly.

“I know that, it’s just—well—” she sputtered.

“Just eat your food,” Harry said, giving her a pat on the back.

Hermione gave a weak smile that was more like a grimace. 

She ate in silence as the boys' conversation turned further towards Charms, but her eyes stayed on the empty seat at the Slytherin table.

She didn't have the chance to finish, however—she was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. Snape loomed behind her in his billowing black robes.

 _Wasn't he at the high table just a moment ago? There's no possible way he could have moved that quickly—_ _unless he was never at the high table._

A pit formed in her stomach.

“Granger, please come with me,” he said sternly.

Harry and Ron sat frozen and wide-eyed. Their gazes followed the mismatched pair out of the Great Hall.

Hermione’s pulse was racing. The thud of it filled her ears. The walk to Snape's classroom in the dungeons felt more like a death march.

Every awful possibility was swirling through her mind. 

Her hands were clammy and she was regretting what little food she’d eaten.

Draco was sitting rather awkwardly in Snape’s office. As they walked in, the professor waved his wand and a flash of silvery light appeared around the blond boy’s wrists and ankles, undoing some sort of magical restraints.

 _Incarcerous_.

Something in her mind whispered about how that sort of spell was likely very unethical to use on students, but she figured now was not the time to lecture Snape on rules.

“I wish I could say I was surprised to see you both in my office,” the black haired man said. “I can't say I’m disappointed either, my expectations were never quite that high."

Hermione bristled at the backhanded comment but stayed quiet.

“I was rather confused when I saw a gramophone in the Astronomy Tower last night during my watch,” Snape continued. “Professor Sinistra said it didn't belong to her, but oddly enough, Professor Sprout had noticed her own had gone missing.” He eyed Draco critically.

“Obviously, I wanted to investigate this theft. I kept a close eye on the tower entrance, and who did I find but Mr. Malfoy, attempting to sneak back in.”

Draco swallowed hard. 

“That is where we come to you, Miss Granger. Is it or is it not true that you accompanied Mr. Malfoy to the Astronomy Tower outside of permitted hours?”

Hermione paused before answering. “Did you come to this conclusion yourself or did Draco tell you?”

“Answer the question. Honesty is appreciated in all disciplinary matters at Hogwarts.”

The Slytherin shook his head almost imperceptibly to confirm that he hadn't implicated Hermione.

“Rather vengeful of you to seek me out when Draco is in trouble,” she mumbled. “Yes. I was there.”

“So you admit to entering an out-of-bounds portion of the castle?” There was a barely concealed undertone of glee.

“Yes.”

“Professor,” Draco said, “she didn't take the gramophone, I did. She wasn't involved in—”

“Thank you, Malfoy, for your riveting defense of your girlfriend, but it's not necessary,” Snape interrupted. 

He stood. “I’ll be speaking to Dumbledore promptly to address proper consequences. You are both dismissed.”

They left quickly and ducked into a side corridor.

“I swear I kept your name out of it when Snape demanded to know what I was doing,” Draco said.

“I believe you, I just cannot believe _this_.” Hermione said. "Your joke about us getting expelled in your note this morning has already aged poorly.” She massaged her temples to fend off the headache she had coming on.

“If we get in trouble, Dumbledore will write to my father,” Draco said seriously, staring off into space. “And knowing him, he’ll demand to know the circumstances.”

“God, this is a bloody mess.”

“It’ll be a literal bloody mess if my father hears a word of it."

“That reminds me, are your wrists okay?”

He looked down at his hands. “They’re alright,” he said gingerly. “The spell was only on for a few minutes and the ankles weren't as bad."

Hermione tried to slow her panicked breathing. “The one thing we do have is McGonagall—she knew where I was going. The gramophone is a separate thing entirely, but it's at least less serious than sneaking into the Astronomy Tower,” she said, thinking aloud.

“Would Professor Snape bother to get her involved?”

“He's not my head of house, he can’t really discipline me like that,” she countered. “Though, he did use _Incarcerous_ on you.”

“That’s exactly my point,” he replied. 

“Well, when he goes to the headmaster, hopefully Professor McGonagall will be called in. Snape doesn't have any grounds if another professor essentially allowed us up there.”

“Let’s hope Dumbledore can see sense,” Draco said under his breath.

His face contorted in frustration. “It’s my fault. Got too comfortable sneaking around and now I’ve got both of us in danger,” he muttered.

“Draco, now isn't the time for blame. Really, it’s Snape’s fault for acting like he's the only authority that can punish people. He just assumed I was with you and hunted me down himself.”

“It was my idea to go to the tower, wasn't it?” he replied, raising his eyebrows.

She didn't have anything to say to that. _He’s technically right._

“I should go. Class starts soon,” he said. “Divination is about as far as you can get from the dungeons.”

He gave her a kiss on the head.

Hermione had a few minutes before she needed to get a move on, so she decided to pay McGonagall a quick visit.

She poked her head into the classroom. 

“Hello, Professor?”

The witch looked up with a pleasantly surprised expression and removed her glasses. “Miss Granger, do you need something?”

She silently hoped her years of flawless grades and being something of a teacher’s pet would help her out. Hermione was requesting a massive favor that could put McGonagall’s position at risk.

“Yes, you could say that.” She shut the door behind her and approached McGonagall’s desk.

“Draco and I were just reprimanded by Professor Snape,” Hermione started to explain. “He got in trouble for taking a gramophone from Professor Sprout to bring to the tower, and Snape decided to question me.”

McGonagall looked more than a little confused.

“To make a long story short, he said he would report us to the headmaster, and I wouldn't protest being fairly disciplined, but you did allow me to go to the tower last night.”

“Indeed, I did,” the professor said expectantly.

“I have another more serious concern with this, though.” Hermione cleared her throat.

“Given the . . . circumstances of my relationship with Draco, it would be rather dangerous for both of us for his father to find out. Especially via a note home from the headmaster.”

McGonagall pursed her lips. “You make an excellent point, Granger. While I obviously agree with appropriate discipline, this is too great of a risk to your personal safety and to that of Mr. Malfoy.” She stood and Hermione frantically gestured for her to stay seated. 

“Don't confront Professor Snape now,” she pleaded. “I’m afraid he would suspect that I spoke to you and he has enough of a bias against me as it is.”

“What do you expect me to do then?” 

“I assume he has to have you present at the meeting with Dumbledore—you can vouch for me there.”

The grey haired woman nodded. “If that’s what you believe would be the best course of action, I shall trust you. I truly believe Hogwarts should be a safe place for young wizarding children, and informing Lucius Malfoy that a Muggle-born witch and his son snuck into the Astronomy Tower would be a deeply unwise choice in regards to that goal.” She tutted to herself and put her spectacles back on.

“Thank you,” she said breathlessly. 

“You’re welcome, Hermione,” she replied. “Now, please get to class. You have no such excuse for being tardy.”

The Gryffindor girl obediently ducked out of the room.


	14. Worst Thing You Ever Heard

Hermione chewed her bottom lip as she thought. It’d been nearly two days since Snape dragged her and Draco into his office and her nerves were wearing thin from anxiety.

She told him as soon as possible that McGonagall was on their side. It wasn't a fail safe, by any means—the professor could possibly be fired or suspended for knowingly allowing such a violation of the rules. 

Harry and Ron were, to put it gently, boiling with anger when they found out. Ron in particular had threatened several colorful things toward Snape that would have ended in expulsion if they were even overheard by a member of the staff, much less actually carried out. Harry was gripping his wand so tightly Hermione was genuinely concerned he would break it.

“Normally it’s me or Ron in trouble and you're the one getting steamed up about it,” the dark haired boy had said after relaxing a little.

_He wasn’t wrong._

However, a lot had changed in a short period of time.

For example, a few months ago, Hermione would have assumed Professor Snape’s attitude toward her was generalized Gryffindor prejudice, or just a dislike of know-it-alls—as much as she hated the phrase, she couldn't deny that she was one.

Given recent events, it was beginning to feel more like a targeted campaign to discourage her relationship with Malfoy.

She was having a hard time pinning a motive, though she had a nasty feeling it had something to do with blood status. _I’m not entirely sure if he’s pureblood, but he is a Slytherin._

The blond Slytherin looked up from his Charms book. “You look worried,” he observed.

“I am,” she replied shortly.

His tone softened. “It’s going to be alright,” he said. “You talked to McGonagall, this will blow over.”

A swishing noise caught Hermione's attention. She glanced up to see the Gryffindor Head of House approaching, her robes brushing along the walkway. “Speaking of,” she mumbled.

The professor adjusted her glasses. “Malfoy, Granger,” she said primly. She didn't need to say much else.

The couple looked at each other with a mix of relief and fear. Hermione tentatively set aside her book and stood to follow McGonagall with Draco alongside.

Snape was an imposing figure regardless, but he looked especially intimidating for some reason. Hermione immediately felt his gaze dig into her the second she entered the headmaster’s office.

Dumbledore’s jovial mood in comparison gave her whiplash. 

“Lovely to see you both,” he said to the students. Hermione and Draco sat down stiffly on two stools in front of the desk.

“Thank you, Minerva,” he said as an aside. McGonagall just nodded in reply.

“Now, I’m afraid that the circumstances in which we are meeting are not so lovely,” the man continued. “I was regrettably informed by Professor Snape that he has evidence to believe you two were in the Astronomy Tower against school rules.”

Dumbledore looked at them over his spectacles. “Is this true?”

Before they had a chance, Snape replied, “Both previously confessed in my office, Headmaster.”

“Is _that_ true?” Dumbledore corrected.

“Yes,” Hermione mumbled.

“It is,” Draco said.

McGonagall cleared her throat. “Albus, if I may?”

The headmaster gestured as if giving her the floor.

“Severus, Albus, I permitted Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger to meet in the tower that evening,” she explained. “I had a brief encounter with Granger on my way to dinner, and she told me honestly where she was going. I allowed it.”

Snape’s sickly skin tone was becoming blotchy and red. His nostrils flared like an angry bull.

Dumbledore’s expression shifted from serious to surprised. “Then it appears there is no real issue,” he said, glancing to Snape.

The younger man swallowed hard and exhaled. “With that new information, I suppose I must agree.” His tone was scarily level again, much like it had been when he first chastised Hermione for her fight with Pansy.

“However, Mr. Malfoy did confiscate faculty property,” Snape said. “Miss Granger was likely complicit.”

“That is conjecture and you know it, Severus,” McGonagall snapped, glaring at him.

Dumbledore turned his attention toward the dark haired man. “Minerva is correct. There is no evidence that Miss Granger was involved in the theft. When we first discussed this, I suggested that a detention and written apology to Professor Sprout would be appropriate, and that opinion still stands.”

“Only for Draco?” Hermione asked.

“Well, yes.”

“I’ll take the detention too.”

“Hermione, no,” Draco protested, straightening himself. “You didn't do anything.”

“It’s the principle of the thing!” she argued.

The Heads of Houses watched awkwardly. 

“My apologies, I didn't mean to start a lovers’ quarrel in my office,” Dumbledore said with a sparkle in his eyes. “If you wish to take the detention, Granger, you may do so. Malfoy, I appreciate your insistence.”

Draco didn't look pleased.

“In fact . . . ten points each to Slytherin and Gryffindor,” the headmaster said casually. “Being honest and taking responsibility are difficult things to do even for adults, and you have both done them rather well.”

Snape appeared barely restrained. His jaw was clenched so tightly it was probably beginning to hurt.

“You’re both dismissed,” Dumbledore declared. “Write and deliver that apology to Professor Sprout by next week. You’re free as well, Minerva—Severus, would you stay back for a moment?”

McGonagall ushered the children from the room and back down the stairs. “You may return to your studies,” she said formally.

Hermione turned and smiled. “Thank you, Professor.”

The older witch’s eyes crinkled and she smiled warmly. “You're welcome. Don't keep testing your luck,” she warned.

“I don't intend on it,” she promised.

She practically skipped down the hall. 

“How did that go as well as it did?” Draco asked in disbelief. “The last thing I expected was to _gain_ house points.”

“I think Snape was about to explode when Dumbledore said that,” she said.

“Bloody hell,” Draco muttered. “I was half prepared to be torn apart by my father and given detention for the rest of the school year.”

“You can thank my Transfiguration grade for that,” she said honestly. “It pays to have favor with teachers.”

He slumped down onto the grass where they had left their things. Hermione sat next to him and leaned her head onto his shoulder.

“I wish you didn't volunteer for the detention,” he said.

“I know you felt responsible for us being in trouble to begin with, but I snuck into that tower all the same,” she replied. “Besides, we'll presumably be serving it together. It’s not all bad.”

“It’s so insufferably Gryffindor,” he complained, not fully serious. “Always with the honor and valor nonsense.”

“My honor and valor _nonsense_ earned us ten house points each.”

Draco huffed. “It was unnecessary.”

“It’s over now, or at least until Snape decides to revive his literal witch-hunt against me.”

“He has some deep personal vendetta against us dating, I suppose,” the blond boy shrugged. “I think Dumbledore gave him a good stern talking-to after we left.”

“I did check the school rules again and he’s lucky we didn't mention his use of _Incarcerous_. He could have been sacked on the spot,” she muttered.

“It would have been our word against his. McGonagall didn't see it,” Draco said. “I know you're all righteously angry about this, but don't bring it up to the headmaster. It’s not worth the mess.”

“I wasn't planning on it. We’ll serve the detention and it’ll be over,” Hermione promised.

The two returned to their studying.

-

Much to both of their chagrins, they served separate detentions the following Saturday.

Hermione reluctantly opened the heavy door of Snape’s classroom. A large collection of jars and bottles, their contents ranging from shimmering red powder to something that looked like gravel to dark and thick-looking paste were assembled on the student desks.

“There you are,” the professor said unenthusiastically.

“Hello.”

“I recently received several new ingredients,” Snape explained. “I need your assistance to organize my personal storage and the student cabinet.”

“Of course,” she said politely. On the inside she was screaming. _Bloody hell._

Upon closer inspection, the various containers were labeled. The majority must have been for Snape’s personal stores; she didn't recognize the names. The rest were mostly common potion ingredients. There were sachets of lavender, stoppered bottles of river water, and all other manner of herbs and plants, including sacks of crushed willow bark and bezoars.

“Perfect. Get to it, then,” he said, with a cursory glance at the clock in the back of the room. He sat at his desk and took out a towering stack of essays.

At first, Hermione made an effort to lose herself in the rhythm of the work. The clinking of glass, the swishing of mysterious liquids, and the thud of objects on the wooden shelves combined to form a pleasant melody, and the actual organizing wasn't as bad as she expected. The only small annoyance was how heavy some of the bags were, but she just placed them on the floor.

In spite of her attempts at relaxing, Snape's quill felt as if it was mocking her with its loud scratching against the parchment. Upon finishing his grading of each essay, he would observe Hermione intently with his hawkish gaze for a moment or two, before returning to the work. He never said anything, only watched.

The wordless tension in the classroom was suffocating. 

_Merlin, this feels like some sort of sick power play. What I wouldn't give to be in the greenhouse._

Draco had gotten far luckier—he was helping Professor Sprout, who of course promptly forgave him and wasn't harboring a rather blatant grudge.

There was no doubt in Hermione’s mind that Snape had volunteered to host her detention. She theorized that he was still deeply upset that she wasn't punished by Dumbledore and wanted to take it upon himself. 

It was all obviously incredibly unfair, but she had promised Draco to avoid causing any more conflict and getting them in more trouble. 

She was somewhat willing to get _herself_ in trouble, though.

Once everything had been moved from the desks into the two storage closets over the course of two hours, Snape descended to inspect her work. 

“Acceptable, I suppose,” he remarked cooly. “You are dismissed.” 

“Professor,” she said. 

He turned around looking visibly displeased and raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Granger?”

“Why do you dislike my relationship with Draco?”

Snape’s jaw set itself even firmer. “I have expressed how I feel on the matter.”

“I’m simply asking because I’ve never seen a professor take such a vested interest in student relationships,” she said pointedly.

His gaze went from perturbed to slightly angry. 

“Miss Granger, are you trying to earn yourself another detention?”

“Not at all, Professor. Does it have something to do with blood status?”

“Perhaps I was more correct than I originally thought,” Snape mused. “You are truly foolish.”

“Is that really it? Have you been tormenting me over something as stupid as magical heritage?” she asked outraged.

Snape’s dark eyes flashed. “Do you truly wish to know, Granger?”

“Please, explain.”

“Your position is vulnerable. While he is vulnerable in another way, Mr. Malfoy holds immense power in comparison, and once again,” he said, enunciating every word, “you are incredibly naive for assuming his intentions are pure.”

“What would you know of his intentions?”

“More than you'd expect. I’ve been in his shoes,” Snape replied forcefully. “I was motivated by a desire to protect you, but it is abundantly clear that you want no such thing.”

“Trying to get me expelled and essentially get Draco killed is _not_ protecting me!”

“It’s better than the alternative, stupid child! I loved a Muggle-born in my time at school and she _died_ because of my actions. Given the Malfoy family’s connections, it is not out of the realm of possibility for the same fate to befall you!” he bellowed. “But you refused to listen like every other stubborn Gryffindor I’ve ever known.”

Hermione was filled with shock and fury. “Just because you betrayed someone you loved doesn't mean everyone else is the same,” she spat. “Draco is not some mindless puppet of his father’s any more. He doesn't want to be.”

“Believe whatever delusion you wish, Granger, but I recommend that you _leave_ my classroom immediately.”

“Gladly!”

It wasn't until she was out in the hallway that she felt the wet trails on her cheeks.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	15. For Whatever It's Worth

She walked silently to Gryffindor tower. The Fat Lady went dead quiet upon seeing her furious expression and just opened the door before she even said the password. Harry looked up from his Potions homework.

“Hermione, what happened?” he asked hurriedly.

She sat on the couch. 

“Didn't you just come from detention? Why are you crying?” Ron added.

Hermione roughly wiped the tears from her face. “I had detention with Snape,” she started.

“Bloody git," Harry snarled.

“It wasn't so bad at first, I was organizing the ingredients pantry, and—well, I asked him why he hated me and Draco together so much.”

“What’d that greasy bat say?” the Weasley boy asked.

“He shouted at me, said I was a stupid girl. The craziest part is, he told me he was trying to _protect_ me! Bloody ridiculous.”

“Protect you from wh—”

“Let me finish, Harry. He said, he, he said he loved a Muggle-born too,” she said, fighting to keep the shakiness out of her voice. “Said he betrayed her and it got her killed and he thought the same might happen to me because of Draco.”

Overwhelmed, her eyes spilled over with tears and she buried her face in her hands.

“I hate that I sort of agree with him,” Ron said in disgust. “Used to agree with him, at least, Malfoy’s not that bad now.”

“It makes no sense,” Hermione mumbled.

“It sort of does, though. I mean, Lucius Malfoy is rumored to be a Death Eater, my dad says half the Ministry thinks he’s still working with You-Know-Who and didn't believed he got _Imperio_ 'd. With how Malfoy talks about ‘em—”

“Not that part, Ronald, I meant about protecting me.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m not saying I think the same thing, but I can see where he’s coming from. ‘Mione, you’ve got to admit Malfoy isn't the most trustworthy at first.”

“Reckon he was trying to scare you. Show how Malfoy would abandon you at the smallest sign of trouble,” Ron added.

“But he didn't! He got upset that I volunteered to take the detention and Snape saw that!” 

She groaned in frustration. “I hate that he made me so upset. Now all I can think about is whether or not Draco’s actually just using me. I feel paranoid.”

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” Harry said quietly.

“I know you're probably not in the mood to do it right now, but you should talk to him. Malfoy, I mean.”

She nodded. “Yeah. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

“Alright,” the dark haired boy replied. He and Ron shared a sad glance.

Hermione stared into the fireplace.

 _Was Snape actually right? I don't want to believe that Draco could be so cruel—well, actually, I certainly_ could. _I just don't want to. He’s changed, though. He isn't the same obnoxious bully he used to be._

_He loves me, doesn’t he?_

-

The next day after Hogsmeade, the couple met on the school grounds.

“Hello darling,” Draco said. He kissed her on the cheek.

“Hi. How was your detention?” Hermione asked.

He flinched. “Wouldn't have been too bad, but I managed to cut myself on a spade of all things.” He held up his bandaged left hand.

“How on earth did you do that?” she asked, pulling his palm toward her gently. She ran her fingers over the gauze and he winced through clenched teeth.

“I could heal it for you,” she offered.

He drew his hand back and shook his head. “It’s not necessary, Sprout already fussed over me. You mentioned in your owl that you had detention with Snape?”

“Yes,” she muttered. “It didn't go so well.”

He made a face. “What do you mean?”

“I decided to ask him why he kept getting on me about us dating,” she said tentatively. “He got angry, obviously.”

“Please don't tell me you got in trouble again.”

“I didn't, somehow. He said he was trying to protect me.”

Draco scoffed. “Protect you, my arse. He’s not your personal guard.”

“Snape said he loved a Muggle-born too, but she died. He kept saying that because of your family I might die too,” Hermione said softly. She ignored the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “I started to wonder if maybe he was right. If you’d betray me.”

“No. If there’s one thing I’m not it’s a _bloody_ traitor. Especially not to people I love, how _dare_ he,” Draco seethed. “I understand that my family is connected to the Dark Lord, but I’m not my family. Bloody hell.”

“I defended you, but he just told me I was stupid and naive. Then I left.”

“Calling Hermione Granger stupid is just lying,” the blond boy spat. “I know that it’s hard to separate me from my father’s actions sometimes, but I didn't expect this from Snape.”

“I was shocked that he considered himself on my side.”

“I hate that you even thought I’d possibly do that to you,” he said. “I should have made it more clear—I’m not loyal to my family anymore. I never truly wanted to be, not with everything they’ve done.”

“If even Harry and Ron think you’re alright, you’ve done more than enough.”

“Will it ever be enough for everyone else, though?” he said under his breath.

“I’m not sure. I will say that you get used to being judged all the time.”

“I'm sure having me around doesn't make it any easier.”

“I don't care if people judge me for being with you, it’s their own problem.”

“It hurts me to see it. And makes me angry, but I can't afford to hex half my own house. Makes me wonder if—”

“What?” Hermione asked.

Draco pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Nevermind.”

“Are you sure you don't want to say it?”

“I don't want to upset you any further.”

“You’ve stifled how you feel for long enough, just tell me.”

He sighed. “I worry sometimes if we're tempting fate just a little too much. I said it in the tower, it’s easier when we’re alone—it’s fantastic when we’re just Draco and Hermione, not a Muggle-born and a pureblood, or the son of a Death Eater and the chosen one’s best friend.”

“It is hard, and it is scary sometimes,” she admitted. “It feels delicate.”

“That's the word.”

“I fear sometimes that the problem is me. I always feel responsible for things going wrong,” Hermione said. 

“If one of us is _technically_ responsible, it’s me. It’s my father who wants everyone like you dead.” His gaze fell to the ground. “I love you and don't want you in danger.”

“I love you too, and though Defense Against the Dark Arts isn't my best subject I can certainly practice more,” she tried to joke.

He managed a smile. “You wouldn't have a chance to raise your wand. Every time I’ve said I’d duel for you it was dead serious.”

“We could fight whatever it was together?”

“I suppose that’s a fair compromise.”

They leaned in and were about to kiss when Hermione heard whooping and cheers from behind.

“Oi, get it, Granger!” Fred yelled.

“Don’t be shy!” George added, smirking.

The couple froze and broke away. 

“Don’t stop for our sake,” Fred said with a wink.

Hermione went red and turned to shout at the twins, “Don’t you have anything better to do than stalk me?

“No,” they replied in unison. They both had big dopey grins plastered to their faces.

“Besides, you’re on the grounds.” George said.

“Public space!” Fred finished.

“Would you move it along?”

Draco snorted.

“Bloody hell, Hermione, don’t be such a stick in the mud,” Fred said.

“C’mon Fred, let’s leave the _lovebirds_ alone,” George said, elbowing his twin in the ribs.

The brothers strolled away, chuckling and shoving each other.

Draco allowed himself to laugh. Hermione was still blushing furiously. 

“Oh come off it, that was funny,” he said once he regained his breath.

She only rolled her eyes in response.

-

Later that day, Hermione knocked on Hagrid's door.

“Aye, hello there,” the half-giant said. He peered over her as if looking for something.

“Jus’ checkin’ for Draco,” he said. “Not tha’ I'd mind or nothin’, didn’t know if we were alone.”

“Could I come in? I want to talk about something.”

“‘Course. Came at a good time, too. Got the kettle on.”

Hagrid hurriedly poured her a cup of tea and plunked two sugar cubes in.

“Wha’ did ya wanna talk abou’? he asked expectantly.

“Well, Snape told me something after my detention. I asked him why he didn't like my relationship with Draco and why he kept trying to get me in trouble,” Hermione said.

The man scowled. “I’ve never liked Snape, always thought he was a suspicious character. Dumbledore trusts ‘em though.”

She continued to explain what the potions professor said to her and his emotional outburst.

“He said tha’ to yeh?”

She nodded.

“Blimey,” Hagrid mumbled. “Jus’ because his parents are dark folk doesn’t mean he has ta be. Plenty o’ good people come from bad families, an’ vice versa. It’s a matter o’ chosin’.”

“I know he wouldn't do that to me, I just hate that Snape got under my skin,” Hermione replied, taking a sip of her tea. 

“Snape’s a bit o’ a bully teh be fair. ‘Magine if McGonagall didn't cover for yeh an’ Draco,” Hagrid said. He shuddered. “Wouldn't be pretty, lemme tell yeh.”

“I’m not sure what he was trying to accomplish.”

“I dunno either, but I’ll tell yeh this—Draco’s a lot like my creatures. Everyone’s all scared and hesitant, but they jus’ need love an’ time. Yeh just need the right person.”

“That’s not a bad analogy, actually. Thank you.”

“I try me hardest. How'd Harry an’ Ron take it? They didn't try ta hurt a professor, did they?”

“Ron certainly wanted to.”

“He’s right fiery, tha’ one. Yeh have good friends, Hermione.”

She smiled. “I couldn't imagine not having them.”

“Well, if yeh ever get sick of talkin’ to ‘em, I’m always here,” Hagrid said warmly. “Even fer yer . . . boy drama, I s’pose.”

“I don’t have _boy drama_ , Hagrid. That sounds so juvenile.”

“Maybe not anymore, but yeh used to. It’s normal, yer a bunch o’ kids. Yeh all got too much on your shoulders, no shame in bein’ teenagers.”

“I suppose so. I wish we _were_ normal teenagers, that would make it all much easier,” Hermione said quietly.

“I’ve never seen yeh give up on somethin’ jus’ because it's hard. Yeh can do most anythin’ you try, Hermione.”

“I needed that.”

“I could tell. Now be off before the sun goes down,” he said, opening the door and gesturing out. “Yeh don't need me for yeh dates now.”

She gave the half-giant a hug, which was more akin to a toddler hanging onto an adult’s leg. 

“Come by with Harry an’ Ron next time, will yeh?”

“Of course,” she said.

As she made her way up the path, Hagrid called, “An’ stay safe! No more sneakin’ with tha’ boy of yers fer yer own good!”

“I promise!”

  
  
  



	16. The Last to Know

Hermione of course had every intention of maintaining that promise to Hagrid. She was generally a woman of her word, especially when it came to her friends.

Draco, in his guilt from the Astronomy Tower, had insisted that they only spend time together in the most kosher contexts—i.e., in public areas in the castle or on the grounds before curfew. Hogsmeade was a perfect retreat on weekends, but more often than not during the week, they found themselves in the courtyard. 

As their schedules became busier, however, those requirements were becoming harder to meet. Common rooms were out of the equation just to avoid harassment, so their options were limited to begin with.

“I mean this as lovingly as possible—-are you mental?” Draco asked.

“We haven't been properly alone in almost two weeks, not even including Easter holidays. I don't like the idea either, but sadly, we're not like every other couple at Hogwarts,” Hermione said.

“Do you not remember how close we cut it last time?”

“You have to admit, we only really got caught because of the gramophone,” she argued. “That was all your idea.”

“I’m not trying to risk our relationship and possibly our _lives_ just to snog.”

“I’ve done far riskier things.”

“For actual good reasons! Bloody hell, I’ve ruined you,” Draco muttered. “Hermione Granger convincing anyone to break a school rule is not something I ever expected to see.”

“I’m practically an expert now,” she said. “And yes, maybe it is out of the ordinary for me, but our entire relationship is a bit unusual, wouldn't you say?”

He bit the inside of his cheek and sighed. “I don't particularly care about getting in trouble at school, it's a matter of keeping you safe. I can mostly handle my father but you shouldn't ever have to deal with him.”

“We should be fine. Fred and George told me about this, and they know more about getting away with rule-breaking than anyone else.”

“. . . I suppose that’s true.”

“Come, I’ll show you,” Hermione said.

She took his hand and weaved through the students walking through the corridor, heading up the staircase to the seventh floor. 

“Where’s that tapestry again—ah, here it is,” she announced, turning him around.

He looked unimpressed. “Hermione, it’s a wall. A very plain one at that.”

“Right now, it is. Think of something you need and walk past it a few times.”

As she spoke, there was a sound of footsteps from further down the hallway and the familiar mewing of a certain cat.

_Flich._

They weren't doing anything bad, but Flich was incredibly suspicious of students and notorious for ratting on them at the slightest provocation. Awkwardly standing in front of a wall on the seventh floor would at least earn them a firm questioning.

“Bloody hell,” Draco cursed.

“Brilliant, now we don’t need to make something up.”

She paced in front of the wall frantically as the steps grew louder and a swishing tail started to come into view.

A doorway materialized and the boy was tugged through it by his sleeve.

Hermione let out a relieved sigh with her back to the closed door. Draco looked around in panic only to see that whatever room they were in had no light source. He cast _Lumos._

“What is this?” he asked under his breath. It appeared to be a very small cupboard.

“It’s called the Room of Requirement. You can only use it when you have a genuine need.”

“This certainly feels like a place to hide,” he said, observing the tight space.

“It does its job rather well then. Apparently, it was also a broom closet the first time the twins used it—they were also trying to hide from Flich.”

“How did you get them to tell you about it? Aren’t they all secretive?”

“I was complaining that we hadn't had time to see each other in the common room and they volunteered to help,” she said. 

“The Weasley twins? Helpful?”

“Well, they teased me about you for about five minutes and _then_ they offered,” Hermione clarified. “They treat me like a little sister.”

A noise outside the room caught Draco’s attention.

“Wait, shush,” he said quickly, pressing his ear to the door. 

She joined him and the two could hear Mrs. Norris meowing unhappily. The sound was muffled, but they could also make out the old caretaker grumbling.

“Could have sworn I saw students down here,” Flich said to no one in particular. “You saw ‘em too, didn't you, Mrs. Norris?”

The cat hissed as if responding.

“Well, if they tried to run away, we’ll get them.” With that, his footsteps progressively became quieter as he continued to prowl the seventh floor.

“Thank Merlin,” Hermione said. “When we actually use this later, I should include that no one can hear anything from inside.”

In spite of himself Draco smirked. “I could see a few reasons why that’d be necessary.”

She furrowed her brow for a second. He fought laughter and the implication of his comment quickly dawned on her.

Hermione swatted him on the arm. “Get your mind out of the gutter, _Malfoy,_ ” she chided. Despite the harsh tone. there was a hint of a smile on her face.

“I was talking about avoiding the night watch, _obviously._ You’re the dirty-minded one here, Granger,” he said innocently. “Now, do you think it’s safe to leave?”

She stood from her crouched position and carefully opened the door. “No sign of Flich. Go,” she whispered, gesturing for him to leave.

Upon closing the door outside, the handle Hermione had been holding had disappeared into a flat stone wall that was indistinguishable from any other in the castle. The wooden texture had vanished completely.

Draco ran his hand over the surface in disbelief. “It’s as if nothing was there,” he mumbled.

“That’s the idea. Now let's go just in case he decides to come back.”

They cautiously descended the stairs. 

-

The next evening, she was minding her business trying to finish some homework in the common room, specifically on potions with similar effects and in which situations they should be used. The twins sauntered in as usual.

“Hey, Hermione, are ya gonna use our little secret tonight?” Fred asked suggestively.

“You’ve got to make sure it stays secret though,” George warned. “Can’t have any professors knowing about it.”

“I can manage,” Hermione said dismissively. “Rather bold of you to discuss it so openly in the common room, though.”

One of the twins, she couldn't fully tell which, rolled his eyes. _I’m going to assume that one’s Fred_.

“We’re not that stupid,” he said.

“We're _just_ stupid enough,” George said. 

“Our stupidity is why we found it to begin with,” Fred said, grinning.

“And I’m very grateful, but could you leave me to do my homework?”

“There she goes again, being a killjoy,” George tutted.

“I’m perfectly rebellious, but only _after_ I’ve completed my assignments. Don’t you two have any?”

Once they moved along, she continued writing. She had sent an owl that morning outlining a meeting place and time for her and Draco, and her anxiety was making her stomach do somersaults. 

Harry and Ron had protested the idea when Hermione told them, but they relented eventually. Out of all the ways she and Draco had snuck about the castle, it was certainly the most foolproof method, and they couldn't argue with it.

_They can’t keep me from doing it anyway._

She wondered if she had actually changed too much. 

It was surprisingly comfortable to be a goody two shoes who followed every rule and completed every extra credit assignment; it was all she’d ever known. 

Though, as much as she did hate change, she did have to admit it wasn't all bad. Being Harry Potter’s best friend was rather exhausting at times and the simple teenage act of having a boyfriend made her feel normal. 

_Hagrid really was right._

Besides, didn't she deserve to be happy? Find love? Didn't Draco deserve the same? 

The lurking thought of his family's disapproval and the consequences it would bring started to overshadow the positives. She forced it out of her head and just fixated on the essay.

_I don't have time to worry about that._

-

At dinner, her stomach had settled enough to eat something. Hermione was tucking into a rather lovely roast duck and mashed potatoes.

“I’m fine in almost everything _except_ Potions. I asked Professor Snape for extra credit and he told me the only option was to scrub bricks in the dungeons,” Ron complained.

“Sorry, I can't help you there,” she said.

“Malfoy was his favorite student before you started dating him, wasn't he?" Harry asked.

“For good reason—Draco is quite good at potions, actually. Would you want him to tutor you?” Hermione asked.

“Not to be rude, but I’d sooner choke,” the Weasley boy said darkly.

A small letter fell onto her green beans. She picked it up and delicately wiped away the pepper and oil on the back.

“Speak of the devil,” Harry said.

Hermione looked over at the Slytherin table. Draco found her gaze and nodded quickly.

_What on earth could this be?_

She ripped it open—it was suspiciously unsealed, as if it’d been written in a hurry. 

As she read, her eyes bulged open and she coughed on a bite of duck. Hermione thumped her fist on her chest and took a long drink of water.

“You alright there?” her dark haired friend asked.

“I’m not choking,” she said weakly. “But I’m certainly not alright.”

She lowered the letter to her lap. “Lucius Malfoy is coming to Hogwarts.”

  
  



	17. Hang Your Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: emetophobia, panic attack, nausea
> 
> starts and ends at the stars once again for those who want to skip <3
> 
> also a v small (almost) 30k word thank you to everyone who's been reading, commenting, and giving me kudos! you are all appreciated so much

Her two friends stopped eating.

“Like hell he is, give me that,” Ron said, snatching the parchment from Hermione’s hand.

She was absolutely frozen in shock and barely even noticed. _What does he know? Why is he coming? Does he know about me? What is he going to_ do _?_

***

Her stomach turned unpleasantly. _Merlin, can’t I have one meal that isn't ruined?_

Hermione fought the nausea down with some breathing methods Madam Pomfrey showed her after an especially rough night. She eventually calmed down enough for her senses to return. 

***

She glanced up to see that Harry had the letter.

“. . . ‘my father is coming next week,’” the black haired boy read aloud. “What business does Lucius bloody Malfoy have at Hogwarts besides buying brooms?”

“He could probably justify doing almost anything with how much gold he gives the school,” Ron said wisely. 

“You already know what I'm afraid of,” Hermione said under her breath. 

“How could he have found out?” the Weasley asked.

“It was _just_ Easter holidays! Who knows what could have happened!”

“You didn't owl or anything, right?” Harry asked.

She shook her head. “Of course not. Too risky. They’d notice if Astra was gone too often, much less any actual correspondence.”

“Too risky to owl but you'll try to sneak out with him to some secret room?” Ron muttered.

“I do not need sass from you right now, Ronald,” and i Hermione said through clenched teeth.

“Lay off it,” Harry scolded. 

“You'll have to lay low,” he advised, turning his attention to her. “Ron is right about the Malfoys having a lot of power. Dumbledore can only do so much.”

“The only problem is I don't know what he knows. If he’s already found out, there's no use in “laying low.” I’d be found dead in my dormitory.”

_I have to talk to Draco._

She shoved away her half eaten plate and dashed out of the Great Hall. She could hear Ron and Harry calling after her, but ignored them. 

Draco came jogging around the corner after a moment and pulled her to his chest.

“I’m so sorry darling,” he said, out of breath. “I swear he doesn't know a thing, I have no idea why he’s coming.”

“The letter didn't say?”

“No.”

“And you _promise_ you didn't breathe a word over the holidays?”

“I promise, Hermione. I’m just as confused as you are.”

“Did it just say next week? Nothing more specific?”

“He’s coming Tuesday,” Draco clarified. “Staying until that Sunday.”

“That’s not awful,” she reasoned. “Less than a week.”

“Could be far worse,” he said. 

He broke the embrace and looked her dead in the eyes. “Listen, if we get in trouble at all from now on, particularly while he’s here—I’m taking the blame. I won't hear it. I’m the one who’s less likely to be seriously hurt.”

She tried to protest but he pulled out his wand to cast _Silencio_.

Hermione glared at him fiercely and unsuccessfully tried to scream through the charm.

Regret became very clear in Draco’s eyes. “You can yell at me for that later.”

He continued on. “Another thing—my father is a very intelligent and very observant man. If he tries to speak with you, just be cautious. He’s also rather good at spotting liars, or at least he thinks he is."

She nodded.

He undid the spell. “Sorry.”

“He has nothing to suspect,” she said after a pause, more to herself than to Draco. “I just have to act like that’s true.”

-

Hermione and Draco had to hastily return to their secret relationship days, complete with coded letters. They avoided each other entirely, save for classes, and decided that even using Hagrid's as a rendezvous was too dangerous. The older Malfoy had a well-known dislike of the half-giant and would likely be keeping a close eye on him. She did make sure to warn him of the impending visit, just so he could hide any new creatures.

Surely enough, at Tuesday dinner Lucius Malfoy was seated at the high table. He was a striking figure—tall and handsome, with long silver-blond hair tied neatly in a low ponytail. His clothes were clearly expensive and well-tailored. The man also walked with a distinctive cane, decorated with a silver serpent whose head formed the handle and had the body winding down around the cane itself. The resemblance to his son was incredibly strong. They even shared the same eye color.

On the surface he simply appeared to be a wealthy, aristocratic man, but there was something ever so slightly off. It was unnerving to see Draco’s features mirrored in someone who Hermione knew hated her deeply. She was used to a softness in those eyes; even at such a distance there was a clear glint of something vaguely malicious.

Mr. Malfoy’s dark and foreboding presence cast a matching air over the Great Hall. It was normally loud and boisterous, but most students appeared to be eating in mild discomfort. 

Several of the professors didn't seem pleased, either. Professor McGonagall had a tense expression, and Hagrid looked timid and anxious. 

Halfway through the meal, Dumbledore rose from his chair and clapped twice. The hall settled quickly into dead silence. 

“As I’m sure you have observed,” the headmaster began, “we have a guest this evening and for the next several days.” He raised his arm and Lucius stood, giving a small bow.

“For those unaware, this is Mr. Lucius Malfoy. He is a generous benefactor of Hogwarts, and I hope you all shall be on your best behavior for the duration of Mr. Malfoy's visit. That is all.”

Dumbledore returned to his chair and a flurry of whispers started up. Dozens of pairs of eyes flocked to Draco, who was apparently rather busy chugging something from his goblet. 

“That wasn't ominous at all,” Harry said sarcastically.

“Snape looks far too happy,” Ron murmured. 

The professor’s eyes were gleaming in disquieting pleasure. He looked rather satisfied, and it was very worrying.

“I know, I don’t like it. He knows far too much and I’m sure he’d _love_ to try to ruin my life further,” Hermione said.

“It’s all he does,” Harry said. “He bullies Neville 'til the poor lad’s on the verge of a breakdown every other day, tries to get you killed, and he hates me for no apparent reason.”

“He still calls me by the wrong name at least once a week. I got called Percy yesterday and I’ve never been more offended,” Ron added. “Calling me Bill or Charlie or Fred is bad enough, but _Percy_?”

Hermione broke her gaze away from the high table and tried to eat. 

-

Through sheer coincidence, she didn't see Lucius outside of mealtimes for two blessed days. She was focusing on crushing an ingredient for a potion when she heard the door to the classroom open.

_Bloody hell._

Her eyes darted to Draco, who looked as if he wanted a sinkhole to open underneath his desk.

Hermione maintained her focus but listened carefully to Snape and Malfoy talking quietly.

“Severus, good to see you,” Lucius said. “I never have to worry about the quality of Draco’s potions education as long as you’re teaching,” 

“Given some of my fellow faculty, you have reason for concern with most everything else.”

“A shame, truly,” the blonde man agreed. “Gryffindor and Slytherin today, I see.”

“Several troublemakers in this period. All Gryffindor,” Snape said with distaste in his tone.

“Is that a Weasley?” Lucius asked, amused. “I lost track years ago of how many children Arthur has running about.”

Hermione saw Ron’s shoulders tense in front of her. _They aren't exactly being discreet, are they?_

“Indeed. They breed like rabbits as it were.”

“Another shame.”

“And if my eyes aren't mistaken, the _infamous_ Granger right behind.”

“She earns her reputation. Top of the class, consistently.” It was a compliment, but Snape said it as if it were the name of some deadly disease.

Lucius didn't reply but Hermione could somehow see his sour expression even with her back to him. 

She heard Snape’s robes swishing away as she scraped the mashed up paste into the cauldron with the side of her knife. The liquid gave a puff of blue smoke.

Lucius didn't say a word for the rest of the lesson. She couldn't bring herself to turn to look at him, but he presumably stood in silence, simply observing. Hermione did have one source of relief—Malfoy’s conversation with Snape, while rude and tactless, didn't give any indication that the professor planned to rat on her and Draco.

For the time being, at least.

  
  



	18. But It Wasn't True

It was a calm, peaceful afternoon in Gryffindor common room. Classes were over for the day, and various students were lounging about playing chess, doing homework, or talking. 

Hermione and Harry sat in front of the fire, working on Care of Magical Creatures review. She pulled another flash card from her stack.

“Where are Bowtruckles found?” she asked.

Harry’s green eyes were glazed over. He was apparently staring at something over her shoulder.

She snapped in front of his face once, then twice. 

“Harry!” she said.

He jolted as if awoken from a deep sleep. “Sorry.”

“What’s so interesting?” Hermione asked.

“Nothing,” he muttered, blushing. “Uh, Scandinavia, cold places?”

“Correct. And sure, Ginny sitting with Dean Thomas is just _nothing_ ,” she teased, moving onto the next card. The two were not-so-secretly cuddling on a loveseat behind Hermione.

“Do you fancy her?” she asked casually.

“What? No, that's just weird. She’s my best friend’s little sister, that’s just—” Harry sputtered.

“So you do fancy her.”

“ . . . yes.”

Hermione reshuffled the flash cards and set them down. “I thought you fancied Cho?”

“Didn't really work out. She's going through a lot to be honest, she doesn't need anything else.”

A quick silence fell as they recalled Cedric’s tragic death from the previous school year. 

“Besides, it's been, well, sort of a long time,” Harry said.

“How long exactly?”

“I dunno, on and off for maybe a year,” he said, his hushed voice dwindling down to almost inaudible by the end of the sentence. 

“Harry James! A whole year? And you haven't said a word?”

“She’s had a revolving door of boyfriends, when was I supposed to tell her? Sometime during _three days_ she was single after breaking up with that Hufflepuff or during the week-long break she and Dean took?” Harry blurted out.

“You've been counting, have you? You must really like her then,” Hermione said amazed.

“Well, yes. I do. I think she’s brilliant, obviously, but she’s never single. For good bloody reason,” he added.

“Next time she is you should tell her.”

“She probably doesn't fancy me back anyway, it would be all awkward and uncomfortable.”

“I could try to ask for you if you _promise_ to act like a Gryffindor and tell her.” Hermione offered her pinky.

Harry reluctantly hooked his own pinky around hers. 

“It’s a deal then,” she said cheerfully.

The boy's ears were bright red. “I’m glad Ron wasn't here for that.”

-

_I’m going to be late, but if I run into him that’s not all bad._

Hermione rushed from dinner toward the Owlery to give Astra a letter. It had been almost three days since she and Draco had a normal conversation. She hated the awkward schedule they’d developed just to communicate, but it would be over soon. _Just two more days, just two more._

She was making her way up the stone steps when she heard a familiar voice.

“What do you need the family owl for?” Lucius Malfoy said smoothly.

She froze on the staircase and cautiously approached the wooden door, casting a listening charm so she could hear everything clearly over the din of the owls.

“I’m sending a letter to a friend,” Draco replied. 

“Which friend?”

“A friend.”

“I’ll see that,” his father said. 

Her pulse was racing. 

There were sounds of unfolding paper. 

“Difficult to send a letter blank, isn’t it?” 

_No. No no no no._

“ _Aparecium."_

Hermione restrained herself from gasping. She could practically see Draco’s horrified expression and Lucius’s knowing tone only made her heart sink further.

The man started to read aloud under his breath. “. . . ‘Love, D.M.’? Very affectionate for a letter to a friend.”

“I—”

Draco was cut off.

“Who are you actually sending this to? Don’t lie.” 

There was a heavily implied threat in his words. Hermione braced herself for the reply.

“Hermione Granger.”

“Why are you sending a _love letter_ to that filthy Mudblood? Have I not raised you to understand that you are _superior_ to her kind?”

She flinched at the word. A part of her wanted to burst through the door and do, well—what _could_ she do? Stun him? Threaten one of the most powerful men in wizarding Britain and endanger Draco further?

_I can't risk that. Not yet._

There was a lull in conversation that realistically was only a few seconds, but it felt like years.

“I can explain,” Draco said. He sounded as if he was choosing his words very carefully. “Granger is in Potter’s inner circle. As close as you can get. It took a while, but I’ve convinced her that I’m being genuine.”

Hermione’s blood ran cold. 

“I did think I’d have to keep her on a love potion for months, but it turns out I didn't need it. She's clever, but still a teenage girl.”

She didn't stay around to hear any more. She dashed down the steps as fast as she could, not even really caring if anyone could hear. Hermione couldn't think about anything else but Draco’s voice ringing in her mind and the tears threatening to fall down her face.

_Snape was right. I am a fool._

Fear and anxiety and pure seething anger were rising in her chest. Upon reaching the bottom of the staircase she paused to catch her breath and looked down at her hands. They were shaking.

With Lucius and Draco still in the Owlery, she retreated to Gryffindor tower, where her dorm was thankfully empty.

Hermione felt stupid. She felt used, she felt manipulated, she felt furious. Her mind played a montage of every “I love you”, every kiss, every letter she had received across her vision. 

_Was he really lying that whole time? About everything?_

She sat on her bed and sobbed quietly. When she went to get dressed for bed, the letter she had planned on delivering to Astra fell from her pocket. Hermione's heart ached and she contemplated burning it in the fireplace.

Instead, she just shoved it into her bag and tried, somewhat unsuccessfully, to sleep.

-

The next day in Hogsmeade, Hermione politely declined Harry’s standing offer to share a butterbeer. Her friend had looked confused, but shrugged it off.

Ron seemed to notice that something was wrong, but she dismissed his concerns and told him she was fine. Hermione obviously still felt betrayed and frustrated, but she wasn't going to let anyone know that. 

She really had no need nor desire to shop or socialize, so she sat on the hill overlooking the village, reading. 

_I haven't seen him all day._

At the very thought of _him_ her whole body tensed in anger.

“Hermione,” Draco said, coming up the hill.

She took a few deep breaths and calmed herself. “We shouldn't be talking,” she said sternly.

He blinked in confusion. “My father isn't here, and, actually, I do need to tell you something about that.”

Hermione clenched her teeth. “What is it?”

“Last night, in the Owlery, I ran into him. He was sending an owl to my mother and he demanded to see what I was sending,” the Slytherin boy said.

He sat down in the long grass.

“Didn't take him long to figure out what it was. Obviously, he shouted at me for an explanation—”

“I know.”

“What?”

“I _know_ ,” she repeated. Hermione hadn’t lifted her eyes from her book.

“I heard what you said. What do you mean ‘I know’?”

“I know because I was there.”

She looked up and saw utter panic in his eyes.

“Hermione—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What should I call you besides your name?”

“I dunno, maybe _Mudblood_. That’s what your father called me, isn't it?”

Draco was stunned.

She pulled her wand out and aimed it at his neck as she had done months ago. 

“I cannot believe you made me look like a fool for so long,” Hermione hissed. “You _tricked_ me, all just to get some information? You _lied,_ you said you loved me!”

He leaned away from her wand and raised a hand. “I do love you, give me a chance to explain—”

“You've done enough explaining. Snape was right, I heard _more_ than enough to know you’re a traitor.” Her wand hand had begun to tremble and she ignored it.

“I believed you. I trusted you.” Shakiness crept into her voice. “I risked everything for you—my education, my friends, my life, and you were just playing with me. All to sell me out."

The boy swallowed hard and gently pushed away the wand. Hermione let it fall limply to her side, overwhelmed. Tears were streaming down her face.

“I was lying when I said that to my father. I _never_ would have said it if I’d known you were there and thought it was serious,” he began, standing up.

“You said the same thing when I told you about Snape,” she said quietly.

“I know I'm hard to trust.”

Hermione couldn't bring herself to talk. 

“I told him what he wanted to hear in that situation. It was the best I could have done, and I'm very grateful he believed it. It’s borrowed time, though.”

“It’s always something else with us,” she muttered.

“That's likely how it will be. For a while anyway.” He tentatively stepped forward and rested his hand on her shoulder. His touch relaxed her immediately.

“You never should have heard that,” he said. 

Hermione let her eyes close and leaned into him. 

Draco drew his arms around her. “I love you.”

It took a moment, but she managed, “I love you too.”

“I’m not expecting you to blindly believe me, but have a little faith, darling.”

“Everything between us is so uneven—blood status, wealth, social standing. It’s difficult to believe you’d really want someone like me,” she admitted.

“You mean incredibly intelligent, beautiful, and a powerful witch? How is that difficult to believe?” he asked softly. 

“Flattery only gets you so far, Draco,” she said sarcastically.

“It's gotten me far enough,” he said, half joking and half serious. “Are you alright?”

She lifted her head and nodded. Hermione tucked her wand away and turned to pick up her book. Students were beginning to return to Hogwarts, and the couple joined the pack, holding hands and walking in silence.


	19. Just to Keep You

Lucius left early on Sunday without much fuss. Hermione was relieved that she could eat in peace without him at the high table. 

She kept a cautious distance from Draco even for a few days afterward, partially because she was busy studying, partially because she still felt a little uneasy.

Somehow, their relationship felt more uncertain than ever.

Until she received a letter.

As a result of said letter, Hermione was now standing at the Quidditch pitch.

“You came,” Draco said.

She nodded.

“I was worried you wouldn't.”

He glanced around at the stands.

“This is a bit too familiar,” he muttered.

“Being at the Quidditch pitch?” she asked.

“I meant groveling for your forgiveness, but that too, I suppose.”

“You have my forgiveness, Draco, it’s just—”

“I know you're still upset. You don't need to cover that up for me.”

Hermione’s gaze stayed on the grass.

“I understand why. Everything I said probably sounded like your worst nightmares. Not to excuse it, but I was panicking. Believe it or not, my first thought was you. Protecting you.”

“. . . yes. One could describe it that way,” she said stiffly. “I do suppose it worked.

“Now, I don't want you to get the wrong idea—I’m not trying to buy your affections. If I thought that’d work, I'd have done it much earlier.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m getting there, be patient for Merlin’s sake. I ordered this to be made about a month ago, so this isn’t a last ditch effort to make you talk to me again.” 

He reached into his pocket and held something behind his back. “I intended it as a going-away gift at the end of the term. I suppose now it’s more like a . . . two-months-of-dating gift, which feels ridiculous, but that’s how I’m justifying it, anyway.”

Draco handed her the object he had been holding. It was a smooth black box with some surprising heft, labeled with an engraved logo she didn't recognize. Hermione stared at it, puzzled.

“Should I open it?”

“That was the idea.”

She opened the lid and her mouth went dry. Resting on a bed of black silk inside was a silver chain necklace, attached to two delicate interlocked rings. Each ring was studded with small gems—one being emerald and the other a red stone of some sort, a garnet or possibly a ruby. She didn’t know enough about jewelry to tell the difference.

He was anxiously studying her reaction. “I don't know if you prefer silver or gold, but I think you look better in silver. I didn't want to ask because then it would spoil the surprise, but I can always have it gold plated or remade—”

“Please stop talking. It’s perfect,” she said. 

“Do you want to try it on?” he asked.

Hermione nodded and passed the box to him. Draco delicately took the necklace out as she moved her hair to one side away from her neck. She could hear him curse as he fiddled with the clasp, but he eventually got it closed.

The two rings hung just below her collarbone. She ran her fingers over the cool metal.

He paused a second. “I chose the stone colors on purpose to match our houses. Just as a reminder of me for over the summer because I didn’t even think I’d be able to send you an owl.”

Hermione kissed him quickly. “Thank you. I don’t normally wear jewelry, but I love it.”

“I thought about earrings, but I didn’t know if you had your ears pierced,” he admitted.

“Oh, I do,” she said, absentmindedly.

His mouth curled into a smile. “You’re giving me ideas.”

“No more spending that sort of money on me though, I’m not used to it,” she insisted.

“Firstly, no. Secondly, it’s technically my _father’s_ money. I’ll spend as much of that as I like.”

“He paid for this?” she asked with a smile 

Draco chuckled. “He did, but he doesn't know it.”

“Merlin, how much did it cost?” 

“You never ask the price of a gift, darling.”

He watched her play with the necklace for a second. “This is only the beginning,” he started. “And I understand that being with me is hard. It’s beyond hard, it’s dangerous for you.”

Hermione looked up at him. “Draco, I know that full well. Why do you keep bringing it up?

“My point is I couldn’t blame you if you had chosen to leave. I thought you would after what you overheard.”

“I’m not going to do that,” she said simply. “We’re better people because of each other.”

“All I do is encourage you to become a delinquent who sneaks about after curfew. It's rather fun, but arguably not a good influence."

“Rule-breaking aside, I was and still am a bit stubborn and close-minded,” she countered. “I was content to stay in my box, and you convinced me to step outside of it.”

“I was in a very different box. I was a selfish, angry coward who hurt people with no consideration, and I hurt you most often,” Draco said softly. “I thought I was strong for it.”

“You are strong, just not in the way you thought. It takes a lot of courage to admit you were wrong.”

“Damned Gryffindor,” he muttered.

She kissed him on the cheek.

“I want to be the kind of person who deserves you,” he said under his breath. “Mostly for my own peace of mind. If you'll wait while I try to become that, I’d be very grateful.”

“I can wait.”

He kissed her. “Thank you for that.”

“You don't have to thank me.”

“Merlin, let me be _nice,_ Granger. I’m not quite used to it yet.”

“Fine, you're very welcome,” she ceded. “Now that I think about it, I’m very grateful your father didn't come during O.W.L.s. I wouldn't have been able to study.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “That’s what you would have been worried about? Not the threat to your life, but your exams?”

“Well, I’d be worried about both.”

“Your priorities make little sense to me, darling.”

-

It was now June. The weather hadn't warmed any further, but there was the tense promise of summer holidays on the wind. Fifth years were not afforded the ability to enjoy their last week of term, however. 

Ron practically skipped into the common room. “Hermione, you saved me on that exam. Blimey, if we hadn't reviewed all of that . . .”

She gave him a smile. “Glad to know I’m of help.”

“How many more do we have?” Harry asked, muffled from burying his face in a pillow where he lay on the couch.

“It’s only Potions tomorrow. Then we're done.” 

The end of term was always bittersweet for the three friends, particularly Harry. Ron had tried to figure out some way to allow him to stay at the Burrow over the summer, but it never worked out. After the notorious Ford Angelia incident, Molly had instituted a ban on forcibly retrieving Harry from the Dursleys. 

It was a mixed bag for Hermione for a different reason. 

“You alright there?” the ginger asked.

“Yes, just . . . thinking.”

“About what?” His gaze fell to her fiddling with the necklace. 

“Oh, Malfoy.”

“I don't think we can owl at all over the holidays,” she said softly. “We’re too young to Apparate and we can't use magic outside of school anyway.”

“I guess the Ministry's a bigger deal than just getting in trouble with Professor Dumbledore.”

“Very much so.”

Ron shifted uncomfortably. “Well, you’ll do just fine. Might be good, actually.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“I mean, you can’t get caught. You’ll be safe,” he said quickly. 

“Safe, but miserable.”

“Welcome to the club, Hermione,” Harry said darkly.

“The Dursleys are awful, Harry, don’t feel bad for me. It’s only the summer anyway.”

“I do find it difficult to relate to being sad that I can’t talk to Malfoy.”

“Merlin, you two, he’s not that bad.”

“I think you’re heavily biased,” Ron said.

“Yes. I am.”

“The first step in getting help is admitting you have a problem,” Harry said, trying to look and sound very serious.

“Do you want my notes for Potions or not?”

“Yes,” the boys mumbled in unison.

“Then maybe don’t rag on my boyfriend,” she suggested, handing them a thick roll of parchment. 

“Thanks,” Harry said quietly. 

“You’re welcome. Now go actually use them.”

The boys grumbled a bit before leaving and Hermione sat in front of the fireplace.

_I’m going to miss him._

There was something about how she felt when she and Draco were together. Everything scary and worrying that normally sent her into a panicked frenzy faded into background noise. She felt understood, listened to, protected—as much as she loved Harry and Ron to death, they had a tendency to brush her concern aside and then regret it later. Draco filled a specific space in her life that she hadn't previously admitted was empty. 

Hermione wasn't sure what she would do for those three months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.shaneco.com/necklaces/diamond-intertwined-circle-necklace-19-in/p/41090056?gclsrc=aw.ds&gclid=EAIaIQobChMIge-qoKGQ7AIVD9bACh3-QA0OEAQYASABEgInIPD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds
> 
> this is a pretty good visual reference of what i picture the necklace as!


	20. Cruel Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3

Gryffindor tower was mostly empty. The beds in each dormitory were neatly made, ready to sit untouched until September first.

Downstairs in the courtyard, dozens of students stood hugging and giving their goodbyes. Hagrid was preparing the boats for the seventh year graduates to go across the lake in a mirror image of their first year. Everyone else was waiting for the carriages.

Crookshanks was mewing in displeasure, flicking his tail over the rough stones.

Hermione refastened her last suitcase and picked up the grumpy cat. “We’ll be home soon,” she reassured him, ushering Crookshanks into his carrier. The cat continued to voice his annoyance, albeit a little quieter than before.

Ginny ran up to Hermione once everyone had arrived at the train platform and nearly knocked her over. “I’m going to miss you,” the younger girl said. “Owl me, come to the Burrow if you can. Mum wouldn’t mind at all.”

“Thank you, Ginny. I’ll try,” she promised. “Wait, are you still with Dean?” 

The redhead made a face. “Of course, why do you ask?”

Hermione looked over toward Harry, who was talking to Seamus and Ron. “No reason,” she said. 

“Ginny!” A brunette girl Hermione didn’t recognize waved Ginny over and she said, apologetically. “I have to go! See you soon!”

She joined her two friends.

“Are you gonna be in our compartment?” Harry asked. 

Hermione furrowed her brow. “Well, presumably yes,” she replied.

Draco glanced anxiously toward her and she made quick eye contact with him. 

“Perfectly alright if you wanna sit with Malfoy,” Ron said knowingly, looking between her and the blond boy.

“Are you sure?”

“You can sit with us on the way to school next year,” the Weasley boy said, shrugging. 

She gave them a big hug. “Thank you. I’ll miss you two.”

“Run off with your boyfriend!” Harry teased. “We’ll say goodbye at Kings’ Cross.”

Draco met her halfway upon seeing her start toward him. He wrapped her in a hug. 

“I’ll have to thank Potter and Weasley,” he mumbled. 

“They’re like a disapproving father,” she said, shaking her head.

Hermione left her luggage—reluctantly deciding to let Crookshanks take his chances in the pet compartment, given his somewhat unfriendly nature, and boarded the Hogwarts Express. Draco took her hand and guided her toward the back of the train. 

There were several heated glares thrown their way. Hermione just tried to avert her eyes and not pay attention. One particular compartment full of Slytherin sixth-years looked nauseated as they passed. Even one or two Gryffindors made uncomfortable expressions.

He stopped at the last student compartment. Draco gestured for her to enter and sat down, latching the door shut.

Hermione gazed thoughtfully out the window at the castle. The morning fog was starting to retreat from the tallest parapets and towers, leaving a beautiful specter along the lakeshore. The lake itself glimmered in the light. 

Not all of the professors stayed at Hogwarts or somewhere nearby when the term was over, so there were a few missing from the group that was watching and waving politely from the platform. However, Hagrid was there, and even from a distance there was a shine to his eyes. 

“Something wrong?” Draco asked.

“No,” she said softly. “I’m just going to miss a lot of things.”

“We’ll be back sooner than you know.”

  
  
  
  



	21. Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hello! this chapter is just meant as an announcement that this fic is now part of a series! if you enjoyed breakable heaven, please go read paper airplanes!

thank you once again!


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